Escape from Pursuit

Gregory Series Book I

By

Sue Palmer

Triskelion Publishing

www.triskelionpublishing.net

Triskelion Publishing

15327 W. Becker Lane

Surprise, AZ 85379

First e Published by Triskelion Publishing

First e publishing October  2006

ISBN 1-933874-89-9  

Copyright 2006 Sue Palmer

All rights reserved.  No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher except, where permitted by law.

Ebook  and cover design Triskelion Publishing.

Publisher’s Note.  This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, and places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

An icy wind whipped around the gravestones, chilling Neen Summers to the bone.  She pulled her jacket tightly around her and placed the single red rose by her mother’s headstone.  Every February 12^th, the birthday her mother shared with Abraham Lincoln, they put another candle on the cake, for Abe.  It was their shared joke.  But the joke died with Mom nearly three years ago, and if Julio Ruiz had his way, Neen would soon be lying here beside her mother. 

She tidied up the grass around the base of the monument and ran her hand over the face of the granite stone, touching the engraved roses and each letter of her mother’s name, Gloria Alexandra Summers.  It was the first time she’d seen the stone, the first time Neen had been back since the funeral.  She shouldn’t be here now, but she missed her mother so much.  She’d never had a better friend. 

A gust of wind sent the rose flying.  As Neen raced after it, she tripped over something and fell.  A muffled scream tore loose from her throat.  It wasn’t a something, it was a someone, and he smelled awful.  She thought at first the man must be dead, but then he whispered, “Quiet!”

He wore filthy, ragged clothes, and his long hair hung around his dirty, unshaven face in greasy strands.  And that stench!  She scrambled to her feet, the rose now forgotten. 

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her knees beside him.  “Stay put.”  A badge flashed under her nose.  Adam Gregory, with the DEA.

The name sounded so much like…  But it couldn’t be him, could it?  She peered more closely at his face.  The Gregory Adams she knew had a mustache and short hair, and he looked and smelled clean.  This stinky, filthy man couldn’t be him.  “Who are you?”

“Will you keep your voice down?” he whispered.  “I’m not ready for permanent residency here.”

She put her gloved hand over her nose to keep the smell from making her lose her breakfast right here beside – she glanced at the huge gravestone behind him – Wilbert Mortimer Angelthorpe, 1825 – 1902.   

Footsteps crunched on the frosty stone path, moving closer to their spot.  Still holding her wrist to keep her beside him, the cop stiffened.  She opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but before she could speak, she found herself on the ground, with him and his dirty quilt on top of her, his mouth covering hers.  She was too stunned to fight him off, and once the kiss began, she didn’t want to.  Oh, yes, this was Greg.  It reminded her of a time three years ago when he’d kissed her like this.  Only not quite like this, in a cemetery, with him smelling like last week’s garbage. 

“Aw, shit,” a man said, as footsteps approached.

“Where’d she go?” said another man.

“What’s that over there?”

“Just a drunk and his pile of garbage.  He’ll probably freeze to death, sleeping out here with that snowstorm on the way.”  The footsteps faded away as the two men joked about dying in a cemetery.

Neen tried to push Greg off her, but he wouldn’t budge.  She was almost afraid to ask, “Who are those men?”

“They work for Julio Ruiz.”

She froze as a wave of panic washed over her.  “Oh, God.”  She thought Julio’s men were still looking for her in Bremerton.  And here she was, lying in the open with nothing but Greg’s filthy coat and blanket to hide her.   

*****

Former DEA Agent Adam Gregory saw the stark terror in Neen’s green eyes.  Her body was tensed and ready to flee, but that would only draw attention to them, and aside from a few big headstones and scattered trees, there was no place to hide in the cemetery.

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes after he kissed her.  She looked stunned.  God help him when the shock wore off.  The last time they were together, she slapped his face and ran away.  And they both nearly died.  Yet here he was, playing target again.  He must be out of his ever-loving mind. 

In spite of the freezing cold, sweat beaded on his forehead.  He moved slightly to be sure he and his coat and grubby blanket concealed her completely.  “We’ll stay right here until they’re gone.”  They wouldn’t come too close.  Nobody came near a man who reeked like thus badly, and no one would have any reason to fear a homeless drunk sleeping in a cemetery.

“Round two,” he whispered.  “Stay quiet.” 

He heard one man say, “I’ll go this way.  You check out the parking lot.”

Greg peeked under his arm and saw the taller man jogging toward the mausoleum.  The other one prowled the parking lot, pausing to check out Neen’s car.  Greg wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. 

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispered, “and I’m freezing my ass off.”

He shifted slightly to get a better grip on his gun.  A car started and two men pulled out of the parking lot by the mortuary.  There were only two cars left on this side of the lot – his dirty old beater and Neen’s Honda.  “Hang tight for another minute.”

As he suspected, the men cruised slowly through the cemetery.  “Here they come again,” he whispered.  “Don’t move.”

The men didn’t stop, didn’t get out, and – thank you, God – didn’t shoot. 

As soon as the men pulled out on the highway, Greg rolled off Neen and said, “Let’s go.” They both took off running for the cars.  He grabbed her hand, pulled her to his car, and opened the trunk.  “Get in and stay quiet.  They’ll be back one more time.”  She did as he asked, and he slammed the lid. 

Minutes later, the men came back through again, as he knew they would.  They pulled up beside his car, rolled the window down, and glanced over.  Greg pulled a paper sack from the back seat and took a long pull from the scotch bottle he had filled with tea. 

“Stupid drunk,” one of the men muttered.

The men drove out of the lot.  Greg waited another minute before he let Neen out of the trunk.  Most people didn’t search an area more than twice.  Those two always made three sweeps.  It paid to know your enemies, and he’d done his homework.  If he hadn’t, he and Neen would both be dead by now.

He’d been searching for Neen for a long time, and now that he’d found her, he had to do everything he could to keep from losing her again.  It wouldn’t be easy.  Neen had a temper, and after the way he’d used her to get inside Ruiz’ house before the raid, he couldn’t be her favorite person.  Somehow, he had to turn that around and convince her that they had to help each other.  If she kept running on her own, Ruiz and his people would undoubtedly catch up to her and kill her. 

*****

With a last glance at her car, Neen sat in Greg’s car and strapped herself in.  She’d lost count of the cars she’d abandoned in the past three years, but once Julio’s men identified a car, it wasn’t safe to drive it again.  “Where are we going?” 

“To my house for now.” 

Neen cracked her window, stuck her nose by the narrow opening and inhaled.  It hovered around freezing outside, but the car stunk.  Looking out the windows, she kept her hand on the gun in her purse and watched for Julio’s men.  After this long on the run, she thought they’d back off and leave her alone.  They wanted her dead the night of the raid and they still wanted her dead.  And she didn’t understand why. 

It had been a mistake to come to the cemetery, especially on Mom’s birthday, and she couldn’t afford to make mistakes.  This one had nearly gotten her killed. 

She took another whiff of fresh air.  “How can you stand yourself?”

He shrugged.  “It’s part of my disguise.”

She wrinkled her nose and fanned the air in front of her face.  “Why would you want to stink like that and freeze your buns off with Wilbert Mortimer Angelthorpe?”

His head jerked around.  “Who?”

She fanned the air again.  “Never mind.” 

Minutes later, the garage door beside a little house in the north end of the city lifted, he pulled in, and the door lowered behind them.  Before they got out of the car, he turned to her.  “I want you to promise not to run out on me.  Give me thirty minutes to clean up and explain what’s going on.  Can you give me that long?”

“Yes, all right.” 

Greg unlocked the kitchen door and they walked inside.  He grabbed a big plastic garbage bag from the kitchen, shoved his disgusting coat inside, and walked toward the bathroom with the bag in one hand.  Over his shoulder, he called, “Make yourself at home while I clean up.” 

Make herself at home?  She no longer had a home.  Neen found it ransacked when she returned from Los Angeles, and since then she hadn’t been able to stay anywhere long enough to call it home.  Julio Ruiz and his trigger-happy goons had turned her into a nomad. 

She glanced around the messy living room.  The furniture looked well-worn and comfortable, including a recliner that had been patched with duck tape.  A clutter of newspapers, car magazines, dirty socks, empty food wrappers, and dirty dishes covered the coffee table and part of the floor.  She gathered the dishes and took them to the kitchen, but the sink already overflowed with dirty dishes.  She set them on the counter and walked away. 

The man is a slob.

Neen sat on the sofa and let the warmth of the room seep into her cold body.  Staring at the dirty gray carpet, she felt a strong urge to run again, but she couldn’t.  Greg had wounded her pride in L.A., but he was the only person in this world she could trust to help her end this nightmare with Julio. 

She closed her eyes and stretched her neck.  When she opened her eyes, a man stood in front of her.  Pulling her purse closer, she lifted her gaze from black motorcycle boots and clean, but well-worn jeans, to a dark blue sweatshirt with light chest hair peeking out the top, to a freshly shaven face, warm hazel eyes, and dark blond hair tied neatly in a ponytail.  He no longer resembled that disgustingly filthy man she’d stumbled over in the cemetery.  This clean, handsome guy looked as if his fairy godmother had touched him with a magic wand.  From filthy frog to Prince Charming in twenty minutes. 

Gregory Adams, or at least that was the name he gave her three years ago.  Now she didn’t know for sure who he was, Gregory Adams or Adam Gregory, but she did know that he’d pretended to care for her when he just wanted to use her to get inside the house of the biggest drug lord in this hemisphere.  And then he left her there to be killed.

“I’ve missed you, Neen.”

His gentle words should have calmed her.  Instead, the hurt and anger of the past welled up inside her.  “Then why did you leave me in that house to get shot at?  And why in the hell did you hide from me after the raid?”

“Neen—”

She stood to face him.  “They locked me in my room, and then came back and shot up the room.  If I hadn’t found the panel in the back of the closet, they would have killed me.  I was scared and I needed to talk to you, but I couldn’t find you.”  She hit his chest with both open hands and willed herself not to cry.  “Dammit, Greg, I couldn’t find you.” 

He grabbed her hands and held them against his chest.

“I called the DEA, and the man I spoke with said they didn’t have an agent named Gregory Adams.  The second time I called, he said he’d worked on the Julio Ruiz case and he knew who you were, but—”

“But I wasn’t there.  I’m sorry, Neen.  I couldn’t get back to you right away, and I didn’t go back to work for the DEA.”

She yanked her hands away.  “Then why on earth were you in the cemetery in that disgusting disguise and flashing a DEA badge?”

“Waiting for you.  I was there for you.”

Her breath caught.  She’d spent three years searching for him and he’d just now gotten around to looking for her?  “Well, it sure as hell took you long enough.”

His cocky smile caught her off-guard and she took a deep breath to steady herself.  “At least you smell better.” 

He cupped her cheek and buried his nose in her hair.  “And you smell the same.  Like strawberries.”

Her heart did a little flip, but she couldn’t set herself up to be hurt again. 

He gently touched his lips to her forehead and whispered, “Don’t you want to see if I taste better?”

He’d used her and then deserted her when she’d needed him the most, and now he wanted to kiss her?  Not a chance!  She backed away. 

He held up both hands, palms out.  “Okay, no taste.” 

Why was it so hard to breathe with him standing this close to her?  That cute little dimple in his chin caught her eye, then those sexy lips, so close she couldn’t look away.  The longing she felt for him scared her almost as much as Julio’s men.  Every day since the raid she thought of Greg and wondered why he hadn’t been with the other men who burst into Julio’s house.  And every night she dreamed of what might have been if they’d met under different circumstances. 

She wanted him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right now that they’d found each other again, but she couldn’t allow herself to get that close.  Once she’d trusted him with her heart, and the sting of his rejection still hurt. 

Unable to stay in the room with him looking at her, she retreated into the bathroom. 

*****

During his law enforcement career, Greg had always known he had people watching his back, but the night of the raid, one of those people that he trusted had tried to kill him.  They’d nearly succeeded.  It took months to fight his way back from his injuries, and by then he couldn’t find Neen. 

Physically, he could work again.  Mentally, he was still a basket case.  Putting himself back in the line of fire wasn’t easy, but he owed Neen.  After he recovered from the stabbing, he’d done everything in his power to find her.  He blamed himself for leaving her in that house during the raid, and he felt responsible for getting her out of harm’s way now.  If only she hadn’t overheard him on the phone to his partner that evening and learned he’d been using her.  If she hadn’t slapped him and run upstairs, he would have gotten her out of there safely before the raid.  But he couldn’t rewrite history. 

His stomach growled, but the refrigerator was empty, so he called and ordered a pizza then stared at the bathroom door, waiting for Neen to come out.  When she calmed down enough to listen with an open mind, he’d tell her the truth and get her somewhere safe.  He needed her to help him identify the dirty agent.

He thought back to their first meeting.  Neen jogged around Ruiz’ posh Los Angeles neighborhood every morning.  Greg posed as a jogger and ran with her.  Pretty from a distance, she was stunning close up, with green eyes and long auburn hair.  She was still stunning, but those eyes were a lifetime older now.

Neen had been making plans to return to Tacoma when they met.  He talked her into staying a little longer, so he’d have a way to get inside the house before the raid.  Instead of using her in the investigation, he should have put her on the plane that day.  He was still kicking himself for the stupidity of that decision.  She was an innocent civilian who didn’t deserve to get caught up in this kind of trouble.   

He heard the bathroom door click open and looked up to see Neen walk out with her big purse tucked under her arm.  Could he keep her from running again?  Could he convince her to trust him again?  He needed her, and if she wanted to stay alive, she needed him. 

He cleared his throat.  “I ordered a pizza.”

“Sounds good.”  She didn’t sit down, and she didn’t let go of that damn purse.  It was the size of a small suitcase.  Did she carry a gun in that thing?  Of course she did.  She’d been running scared for a long time.

He stood to face her.  “Neen, tell me what happened after they shot up your room.”

She stepped back, as if he brought up something she preferred to forget.  “They rushed around and shoved big packages into the hidden room behind the bar.”

“You saw that?”

“I watched from behind that big plant on the balcony overlooking the rec room.  I saw Julio talking with a guy wearing one of those black vests marked DEA.”  She swallowed hard.  “One of the good guys, if there are any good guys.”

There had to have been twenty or more agents involved in the drug bust that night, all wearing black bulletproof vests.  Had she seen the man who had betrayed them all?  “Neen, did you hear—”

“Yes, but I can’t understand Spanish when they talk that fast.  Julio yelled orders, and I’d never seen his people move that quickly.” 

“Did they see you?”

Her eyes widened.  “Are you kidding?  If they knew I was there, they would have killed me right then.  I heard gunfire outside and the guy in the vest ran toward the kitchen.  Julio and the two goons who guard him followed the others through the panel behind the bar, and that’s the last I saw of him.”

“Could you identify the guy in the vest?”

“I only saw him from the back, Greg.  He had broad shoulders, and he was several inches taller than Julio.  He had big arms, like a body builder.”

Julio was only five-six or so.  There wasn’t a man on the team under five-ten, and most worked out with weights.  It could have been anyone.  “Did you see his hair?”

“No, he had that black cap on backwards, and I only saw him for a few seconds before he ran off.”

All the men wore those caps.  Did Ruiz think she’d seen or heard something in his house?  Why would he pretend to be her uncle and invite her there in the first place?  What did he want from her?  And why would he order his men to kill her? 

The doorbell rang and they both froze.  “Pizza delivery,” the kid on the front porch called out. 

Greg grabbed his gun in one hand and a twenty in the other and walked toward the door.  He slid the twenty through the mail slot in the door and said, “Leave it on the porch.”

The kid grabbed the twenty, dropped the pizza, and ran down the sidewalk as if something had spooked him, his shoes slapping hard on the concrete.  Something was very wrong for him to run off like that. Was there a chance the killers tracked them from the cemetery?  

Neen had her coat on by the time he snatched his off the hook in the kitchen.  She headed for the kitchen door, but Greg grabbed her arm and motioned her to the back of the house.  They dropped through the trapdoor in the bedroom floor, landing three feet below on the plastic liner of the crawl space under the house.  As he lowered the trapdoor with the rug fastened to the top, he heard the front door splinter open. 

“Damn, that pizza smelled good, too,” he whispered.

“You’re worried about food at a time like this?”

For the second time that day, he silenced her with a kiss, but he broke it off quickly when he heard footsteps in the bedroom right over them.  Someone cursed in Spanish and another voice yelled a few colorful words in English.     

The cold crept into Greg’s bones and Neen shivered, but they didn’t move or speak. 

A minute later the front door banged, and then a car door slammed and a car started on the street out front.  Only one.  One door, one car, one man.           

The floorboards squeaked near the door leading to the garage, confirming his suspicions.  One man had stayed behind.  “Stay here,” he whispered, then quietly pushed open the trap door and crept into the bedroom. 

Crouching behind the bed, he drew his gun and waited.

Seconds later, Greg spotted DEA Agent Abe Clinton moving quietly toward the bedroom across the hall.  Greg picked up the paperweight from the desk behind him and tossed it into the hallway.  Clinton spun around and fired, sending bits of plaster flying. 

“Drop it,” yelled Greg.

In a flash, Clinton turned to fire and Greg nailed him in the hand and side.  He could have shot him in the head and killed him, but he didn’t want this guy dead.  Not yet.  

After he kicked the gun away from the man he’d once considered a friend, Greg pulled out his cell phone and called someone he knew he could trust.  When his brother answered, Greg told him what he needed.

“On our way,” said Bo.

With one eye on the injured man writhing in pain on the floor, Greg opened the trap door, offered a hand, and pulled Neen up into the house.  Her hands were like ice, her nose bright red from the cold.

“Thank God.  I thought you were dead.”

“Have faith in me, Neen.” 

Her eyes widened when she saw the man lying on the floor.  She shook her head, and he understood.  The men all wore black, short-sleeved T-shirts under their vests that night, so she saw the dirty agent’s arms.  Clinton was thin and wiry, with very dark skin, and his build and skin color didn’t match the man she saw.

“For God’s sake, call an ambulance,” Clinton cried.  

“As soon as you tell me who else is involved.”

“Come on, Greg.  They’ll kill me.”

“Like you tried to kill me?”  Greg squatted down near the wounded man.  “This is the way it works, Clinton.  If you want medical help, you have to talk to me.”

“I can’t.”

“Fine, suffer, but be quiet about it.”  Moving away from Clinton, Greg grabbed a leather jacket for Neen and pulled another one on himself.  Bo should be here in another minute or so. 

They had to get the hell out of Tacoma. 

He didn’t want to play target again.

Chapter Two

Neen obeyed Greg’s unspoken demand and pulled the jacket on over the coat she wore.  Still half frozen, she welcomed another layer of warmth.  They had to get away from here before the other man came back for Clinton.  She carefully stepped around the injured man on the floor and searched for the gloves and scarf she’d dropped in the living room earlier. 

Clinton begged for help and every cry he uttered ate at Neen’s conscience.  He was a killer, but he was still a human being, and he was in pain. 

Greg said, “Tell me who else is involved and I’ll call an ambulance right now.”

A round of colorful words spewed from Clinton’s mouth. 

“Shut up or I’ll put another bullet in you.” 

Aside from moans of pain, Clinton stayed silent. 

Neen tried to keep her eyes off him, but she kept stealing glances at the man with the bloody shirt and the mangled hand.  He would have ended her life in the blink of an eye.  What would he have done for her if she’d been the one lying on the floor in pain?  She swallowed hard, knowing the answer.  He would have killed her like a rabid dog. 

Clinton caught her eye.  “Please, call 911.  I’ll tell them it was an accident.”

“Shut your mouth,” yelled Greg.  “Unless you’re ready to tell me what I want to know, I don’t want to hear shit out of you.”  Greg glanced at Neen.  “Don’t look at him and don’t talk to him.  He’ll get help when he tells me what I want to know.”  Looking back at Clinton, Greg said, “And if he makes any more noise, I’ll put another bullet in him.  If his buddy comes back, I’ll shoot him, too.”

Neen didn’t like Greg’s tactics, but he’d been in law enforcement a long time.  She had to trust him to do the right thing. 

Lights flashed around the drapes in the living room window and Neen heard the sound of several motorcycles.  “I hope to God those guys are on our side.”  

Three men dressed in black leather came through the broken door.  They all wore helmets with tinted visors, so she couldn’t see their faces.  Neither could the injured man.  One man spoke quietly with Greg while the other two tended to the man on the floor.   

A fourth man carried a stretcher inside.  He helped the other two men put Clinton on the stretcher, and the three of them carried it outside as if they did this kind of thing all the time. 

Greg zipped his jacket and grabbed his gloves.  The man with him pushed up his visor and Greg said, “Neen, meet Bo.  Ready?”

“For what?”  And what were they going to do with the injured man?  She would have left him here. 

Bo handed her a helmet, which she pulled on and fastened.  Apparently, they were going for a motorcycle ride.  She didn’t care how she got out of here, as long as they left before the other man came back.  

Neen and Greg followed Bo outside.  The stretcher fastened to the top of a motorcycle sidecar had a plastic bubble on top, like the helicopters on the old M.A.S.H. reruns on television.  Bo sat behind one man, while Neen sat behind Greg on another motorcycle.  Clinton had grown strangely quiet, and Neen wondered if they’d given him something for pain.

She’d never ridden a motorcycle before, but Greg appeared comfortable on the vehicle. She looped her purse’s long strap over her head and tucked the bag under her left arm.  She kept her gun on top, within easy reach, just in case.  They were outside in the open, easy prey for a drive-by shooting, and she had no intention of getting shot at without shooting back.

Greg pulled her arms around his waist, said, “Hang on tight,” and pulled out onto the street.  She hugged his strong body, using him as a windbreak.  He led the way through quiet neighborhood streets, onto the highway and off, weaving in and out of traffic.  Neen tried to figure out where they were, but even though she’d grown up in Tacoma, she hadn’t been around much in the past seven years, and she was lost. 

Finally, Greg held up his hand when they reached a quiet industrial area and they pulled to the side of the road.  They took the bubble off and carefully lifted Clinton up and put him on the ground beneath a streetlight.  Greg emptied Clinton’s pockets and spoke with Bo again, but Neen couldn’t hear their words.  And then they mounted and rode away.  This time Greg followed instead of led.  She hugged Greg’s back.  Even with the helmet and extra jacket, she shivered from the cold. 

At the next intersection, the motorcycle with the empty stretcher veered to the left and another one turned right.  Minutes later, Bo waved, Greg waved back, and the motorcycle with the two men turned into the parking lot of a bar. 

Neen and Greg kept going.  A police car leading a fire department rescue truck passed them going the other way with sirens blaring, and she assumed they’d come for the man Greg and Bo and the other men had left on the roadside.  She wondered why Greg didn’t call the ambulance to the house.  And then she wondered what the injured man would tell the authorities about what happened. 

In all the time she’d been running from Ruiz, she’d had some weird days, but none as strange as today.  Yet she was relieved to be with Greg again.  Three years being on the run alone had left her emotionally drained and physically exhausted.  Maybe together they could figure out what Ruiz wanted.  He could have whatever he wanted, if he’d just leave her alone. 

It began to snow and Greg slowed down.  He pulled into the open garage of a house and turned off the engine.  The rumble of the motorcycle’s engine still echoed in Neen’s ears.  As she eased her stiff, half-frozen body off the seat, Greg pulled the garage door down behind the motorcycle and pulled the other one up behind an old Jeep.  Neen climbed in the Jeep, put her head back, and closed her eyes as he backed it out of the garage.  Her stomach growled with hunger.  She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now late afternoon.  “What I wouldn’t give to have that pizza right now.”

“Hungry?”

“Yes.” 

“There should be a bag in the back with sandwiches and a thermos of coffee.”

She unfastened her seatbelt so she could turn around and reach in the back. She spotted the tote bag behind Greg’s seat.  There were suitcases in the back, too.  “What’s in the suitcases?”

“Clothes, cell phones, guns, money.”

Had he anticipated this situation, or had he prepared just in case? 

Inside the tote bag, she found three sandwiches, a big plastic bag filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies, a thermos of coffee, apples, and two bottles of water.  She pulled out a cookie and handed it to Greg, then ate one herself.  “Mmm, good.”

“Mom makes the best cookies.”

“Your mother did this?”

“Yep.  Bo is my brother.  He’s an ex-marine, lost his hearing in one ear and shattered his elbow in Iraq.  His buddies are all former military.  One was a medic. He drives an ambulance now.  One is a fireman, and the one on disability helps out in Bo’s bar.  I’d trust any one of those guys with my life.”

*****

Much later, Greg pulled off the highway in Ellensburg, on the other side of the Cascade Mountains.  He found a motel and asked the clerk for a room in the back on the ground floor.  One bed.

Greg tossed the suitcases on the bed.  “Neen, I hate to ask, but—”

“Ask.  What have you got to lose?” 

He gazed into her eyes and laid it on her.  “You.”   

She turned away and unzipped a suitcase.  “I don’t belong to you.” 

The silence grew so loud that he could hear his own heart beating.  She didn’t trust him not to hurt her, not that he could blame her.  “Neen, I—”

She looked up.  “If you’re going to apologize, forget it.”

“I need to explain.” 

She lifted her chin.  “Explain what?  How you seduced me so you could—”

He cocked his head.  “As I recall, I didn’t do the seducing.” 

She turned away, blushing a deep red, no doubt remembering the incident in the hot tub in Ruiz’ gazebo nearly three years ago.  They hadn’t made love that night, but they came close.  Too damn close when he was working undercover, with Ruiz and his men steps away in the house.  It gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘getting caught with your pants down.’  As much as he’d wanted to make love to her that night, it had been the wrong time and place. 

“I never meant to hurt you, Neen.  We’d been working on that operation for months.  When you showed up, I—”

She glared down her nose at him.  “You decided to use me.”

“Just to check out the inside of the house.  I planned to get you out of there before the bust.  I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Oh, please!  You didn’t give a shit about me or you would have told me who Julio Ruiz really was and what you were doing there.”  She paced to the bathroom and turned back.  Greg thought she’d calm down, but the look on her face when she walked back toward him said she was building up steam to lay into him again.  “I’ll tell you one thing, Gregory Adams, or whoever the hell you are.  If you want my help, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on and who I can trust not to blow my head off.” 

Greg waited a few seconds for her to calm down and then spoke quietly, a trick his mother used on her brood.  “Adam Gregory.  My name is Adam Gregory, but most people call me Greg.  I have two brothers and a sister, two nieces and a nephew.  My father was a cop killed in the line of duty, and my mother wants to know when I’m going to settle down with a nice girl and give her more grandchildren.  And I’ll bet that’s way more than you ever wanted to know about my personal life.”

Without commenting on his name or family, she sat on the bed beside him.  “Tell me what you know about Julio Ruiz.”

“Ruiz runs the biggest drug operation in the country, maybe in the hemisphere.  He controls most of the drug traffic coming out of Columbia and Mexico.  We’d been after him for years.  Every time we got close enough to take him out, we lost him, because someone kept tipping him off.  Since Ruiz is still free, I assume the dirty agents are still at work.  Clinton signed on with the DEA after that raid on Ruiz’ place in L.A., so I know there’s another man involved with Ruiz, maybe more.  We lost three good people going after that bastard.  Two had wives and kids, and the other one was planning her wedding.  I don’t want to see any more people killed.” 

“I don’t either.”

He twisted to face her.  “I could leave you in a safe house somewhere, but I can’t guarantee your safety until I know who betrayed us.  And I need you to help me identify him.”

She gazed into his eyes forever, and he knew what she was thinking.  Did he need her for more than this operation?  Maybe so, but he had to take care of business before he could deal with his personal life.  To let his guard down might mean losing her for good, and he doubted he could survive another injury like the last one.  He’d come close to death from that stabbing, and he’d nearly lost Neen for good.

“Neen, when this is over—”

Her eyes closed.  “When this is over, you’ll walk away like the last time.”

He pulled a boot off and dropped it on the floor.  “Is that what I did?”

“Isn’t it?”

He pulled the other boot off.  “I didn’t walk anywhere.  After you slapped me and ran upstairs, someone planted a knife in my back and left me for dead.”

A gasp escaped from her lips and her eyes opened wide.  They filled with a mixture of shock and disbelief, and then sympathy and regret.  She’d probably spent the last three years hating him for abandoning her.  She had every right to hate him, but he didn’t want her pity.

“What did the agency tell you?”

“Nothing.  They just asked me questions.”

That wasn’t surprising, especially if she talked with the agent on Ruiz’s payroll.  “I know you lost faith in me back then, and I understand why, but we need to stay together and you need to trust me if we’re going to get through this in one piece.  Officially, I’m no longer with the DEA.  Unofficially—”

“You’re still after Julio?”

“And the other man who turned traitor.  Can I count on you to help me?”  Keeping her with him might be the only way to protect her, and he needed her to identify the man she saw with Ruiz.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Yes, I’ll help you.  How badly were you hurt?”

He hesitated before answering, “Bad enough.”

“I’m sorry, Greg.  I thought—”

“Honey, I never would have left you there alone.”  He’d planned to take her out to dinner and then park her some place safe until after the raid, but she overheard him on the phone.  She concluded that he was there on business and not because he cared for her, and she was livid.  She slapped his face and ran upstairs.  Seconds later, another DEA agent stabbed him in the back. 

*****

Neen plowed both hands through her hair.  Greg couldn’t help her that night and probably not for a few weeks after, but that happened such a long time ago.  “Did it take you this long to recover?”

“You didn’t make it easy to find you.” 

No, she didn’t.  She felt a little guilty for being angry with him all this time, but she didn’t know his real name and nobody bothered to tell her he’d been hurt.  Nobody told her anything.  Maybe if she’d left a phone number with the agency, someone could have given him the message to call her, but that would have given away her location to people she wasn’t sure she could trust.  In any case, she wanted to find out why Ruiz and his men were after her and stop them from terrorizing her.  She and Greg had to stick together and help each other.  He was using her like he had the last time, but this time she wouldn’t mistake it for love. 

“When I got back to Tacoma, I found my mother’s house torn apart.  They shredded every piece of upholstered furniture in the house.  Since then, they’ve managed to track me down and search every apartment I’ve ever lived in.  At least they always did it when I wasn’t there.”

“Why?  What are they looking for?”

“I have no idea.” She stared at the floor.  “At first I notified the police, but they never found any fingerprints or witnesses, so I stopped calling.  One time, a police officer asked me to let him know my new address when I got a new place, but by that time I didn’t know whom to trust.  I still don’t.” 

“Me.”  Greg put his hand over hers.  “You can trust me, Neen.”  By the time he’d recovered, guilt gnawed at his spirit.  He should have gotten her out before the raid.  He should have protected her after the raid, but he couldn’t do anything from the hospital or for a long time after the doctors released him.  It took months of physical therapy before he could function on that level again.

He’d stayed one step behind her for over two years, but so had Ruiz’ men.  He’d seen them more than once, driving past her mother’s house, hanging out in bus stations and airports, and walking through the cemetery where her mother was buried, but he didn’t have the authority to arrest anyone at first.  It was only recently that he hired on with the FBI as an undercover agent to help with this case.  He was determined to help catch the agent who stabbed him in the back and get Neen Summers out of harm’s way, and he needed the resources of the FBI.  

All that time searching, and he hadn’t been able to connect with Neen.  On three different occasions he’d found where she lived or worked, but by the time he arrived, she was gone.  He’d been in that cemetery many times, always in a different disguise.  He’d even camped out in her house a few times, but Neen didn’t show up.  He didn’t know anyone who could have done a better job of hiding and staying alive when someone as powerful as Ruiz wanted them dead. 

In spite of the way they’d parted the last time and the time that had passed since then, she must still trust him.  Neen had told him more today than she’d told the agents that night.  She’d answered their questions in short, cryptic answers, without volunteering anything.  ‘An uncooperative witness,’ Cramer had called her.  Seeing a DEA agent acting friendly with Ruiz had made her leery, and he couldn’t blame her.  Until he found the dirty agent, he didn’t trust any of them either, not even his former partner, Phil Cramer. 

*****

Neen found a robe, slippers, and three changes of clothes in the blue suitcase, along with makeup, tampons, shoes, a hair dryer, and other personal items.  He hadn’t put this together by himself, and he didn’t do it in one afternoon.  “How long have you been waiting for me, Greg?”  And how did he know her sizes?

“Since I recovered.  You’re a hard woman to find.”  He walked up close and ran his hand down her arm and took her hand.  “After this is over, we could find another gazebo and start over.”

“I don’t think so, Greg.”  She was naked in the spa that night and he turned away.  The humiliation of his rejection still stung.

“Neen, I couldn’t undress because—”

“Because you don’t like pushy women?  Because you didn’t like this pushy woman?”  She lifted her chin.  “Or do you have another woman’s name tattooed on your tush?  It sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with Ruiz.”

“The hell it didn’t.  He had a camera on us.”

Her eyes flashed with fire as she realized he told the truth.  “Oh, you’re really going to pay for that one.  Why in the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t without tipping them off.”

If looks could kill, he’d already be six feet under. 

He pointed to the bed.  “I’ll take the side by the door.  If you hear anything, and I mean anything, or I nudge you, I want you to roll off onto the floor behind the bed.  Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

She picked up her purse and pulled out a little handgun.  “Like this?”

His eyes twinkled.  “So, are you planning to shoot me if I get a little too…”  He wiggled his eyebrows.  “... friendly?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.  Neen had hardened in the past three years.  Fear of Ruiz and his men had done that to her.  So had being alone. 

He held up both hands.  “I’ll stay on my own side of the bed.”  He put his hand on top of his head and lifted one eyebrow.  “Unless... you don’t sleep in the buff, do you?”

“Not tonight.”  She trusted him with her safety, but not with her heart. 

She pointed to his side of the bed and then to hers.  “Your side.  My side.  Got it?”  

“Got it.”  He watched her take a few things out of the suitcase and walk toward the bathroom.  “You know, that night in the gazebo, if—”

Neen stiffened.  “Don’t go there, Greg.  Just don’t go there.”  That evening in the gazebo, in the spa, she’d made a fool of herself, but it wouldn’t happen again.  Some lessons were too painful to be repeated.  Back then she thought he hung around Julio’s house to be with her, but the night of the raid, when she discovered his true purpose for being there, she was crushed.  He was doing his job, and she’d mistaken his attention toward her for something very personal. 

After the raid, Julio’s house swarmed with men wearing black vests identifying them as DEA agents, but she couldn’t find Greg among them.  Two agents interrogated her, but she didn’t say much.  What could she say?  That she was stupid enough to believe Julio Ruiz was her uncle?  That she didn’t know anything about his business even though she was a guest in his home?  She told them that she wasn’t involved in Julio’s business, and although he’d claimed to be her long-lost uncle, she’d only known him a short time.  And she didn’t dare mention the agent she saw talking with Julio.  What if it was one of the men interrogating her?  Greg was the only one she could trust, but when she asked for him, nobody would tell her what happened to him. 

After she found her mother’s house torn up, she moved to an apartment complex with good security, but it didn’t keep Julio’s men away, so she moved again.  And again.  Her life was in constant turmoil, and she had no idea how to find Greg. 

She started carrying a big purse with money, a change of clothes, and all the little things she valued, because she never knew when she’d have to disappear and start her life over again.  Three years on the run, and it wasn’t over yet. 

“Hey, Neen,” called Greg.  “Come look at this.”

A reporter on television told his audience about a man with a gunshot wound found by the roadside in Tacoma.  The injured man refused to give his name and he had no identification on him.  The reporter gave a brief description of the six-foot African American man. 

“I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when Ruiz finds him.”  Greg looked up at Neen.  “You realize they’ll step up their efforts to kill us now.  They know we’re together.”

She sat beside him.  “Yes, I imagine they will.” 

He cocked his head and gave her a tentative smile.  “So, are you planning to sleep with that gun, or—”

“Goodnight, Greg.”  Being with him and sleeping in the same bed brought back a flood of tender feelings, but she had no delusions this time.  She knew he was using her. 

Besides, she had enough to worry about without risking her heart again.

Chapter Three

A sound outside startled Greg awake at six.  He jumped out of bed with his gun and peeked around the drapes.  It turned out to be the people in the room next door. 

Neen slept soundly, so he gently removed the gun under her pillow and started the coffee in the motel’s tiny coffee maker on the bathroom counter.  Minutes later, fortified with coffee, he plugged in his laptop and went to work, sending and receiving e-mails from Dave Montgomery, his contact in the FBI. 

He knew Neen’s mother died in a suspicious accident weeks before he met Neen.  Ruiz attended the funeral and identified himself as Neen’s uncle, but she hadn’t met him before the funeral.  He could be her uncle, since her father’s name was Ramon Ruiz, but if that were the case, why would Ruiz try to kill his own niece? 

Neen finally roused at nine.  “It’s about time you woke up,” said Greg.  “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

She pulled the pillow over her head. 

He lifted one side of the pillow and leaned down to peer at her.  “If you stay in bed, I’m getting naked and coming in there with you.”

She blinked and rubbed her eye.  “Next time get two beds.”

“Nope.  I want to be able to reach out and touch you.”

“Pervert,” she muttered, and her eyes opened wide. 

“Looking for this?”  Using two fingers, he held up the gun she’d tucked under her pillow last night.  He put it on the dresser and she threw her pillow at him. 

*****

Neen came out of the bathroom to find him sitting at the desk; wire frame glasses perched on his nose, punching the keys on a laptop computer. 

“What are you doing?”

“Research.”

“On what?”

“You.  I want to know who your parents and grandparents were and where they came from.”

She sat on the side of the bed and pulled her socks on.  “My mother said my father died when I was a baby, and that I didn’t have any grandparents.  It was always just the two of us.”

“And you didn’t question that?”

“Of course, I questioned it.  My last year of college, I had a friend help me search for records on my father, Ramon Ruiz.  He was from San Diego, or so my mother told me.  We found several men by that name who were born around 1950, but none of them died in the three years after I was born.  We also discovered that a woman named Gloria Alexandra Summers died in Tulsa when I was four months old.  Her birth date and my mother’s were the same.  I first thought that Mom had faked her death, probably because I didn’t want to believe the obvious, that Mom took another woman’s name after she died.  But that didn’t explain which woman gave birth to me.  I intended to ask my mother about it after graduation.  I didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”  She slipped on her loafers.  “But we never had a chance to talk about anything.” 

Memories of that day filled Neen’s mind, searching for her mother in the crowd of parents who’d come for graduation, disbelief and disappointment that Mom hadn’t come, and saying goodbye to all her friends.  And then she drove home and discovered why Mom wasn’t there. 

“On her way to my college graduation ceremony, some idiot in a truck ran her off the road.  She hit a tree head-on, and he kept right on going.  The next door neighbor told me when I got home, and then a Highway Patrol officer came to the house to talk with me.”  Her living nightmare began that day, the day her mother died.

Greg turned back to the computer and Neen dried her hair.  When she finished, she said, “I hate to interrupt your work, but I’m hungry.  Do you suppose we could go get some breakfast?”

“After you put your disguise on.”

“If you think I’m wearing one of your smelly outfits, forget it.”

Chuckling softly, he opened the brown suitcase and pulled out sweatshirts, glasses, caps, and a bottle of spray-on hair color.  “Put your hair in a ponytail, wear jeans, running shoes, and a Central Washington University sweatshirt and baseball cap.  You’ll blend in with the students that way.”

“What about you?”

He sprayed the hair at his temples with gray, stuck a pipe in his mouth, and pulled on glasses.  “You’re the student, I’m the professor.”

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head.  “How come you get to be the smart one?”

“Because I’m the one in charge.”

“Oh, yeah?  Who says?”

He held out the sweatshirt.  “Do you want to eat today or don’t you?”

“Not unless you ditch that pipe.”

“Why?”

She counted on her fingers.  “One, because I don’t want to sit in the smoking section of the restaurant, and you can’t smoke a pipe in a restaurant anyway.  Two, I had asthma as a kid and I’m still sensitive to smoke.  And three, I can’t smell those men coming if you’re smoking.”

He screwed up his face.  “Smell them coming?”

“The short, nervous guy chews apple gum and the tall one sucks on those menthol-eucalyptus cough drops.  They’re also slobs.  They drop their wrappers everywhere, so I can tell if they’ve been hanging around.”

He blinked.  “You actually notice things like that?”

“My mother used to say I had a bionic nose.  And noticing things like that has kept me alive,” she said on the way to the bathroom. 

Neen remembered the last time she’d smelled apple gum.  It happened in Seattle, when she got in her car, and she also found a cough drop wrapper on the floor.  She didn’t know if they’d planted a tracking device or a bomb or just searched the car, but they’d definitely been there.  Neen left her car in the parking lot and walked away.  It wasn’t the only time she’d smelled the combination of menthol-eucalyptus and apple gum or the only time she’d walked away from a car. 

If only she knew what they were looking for.

*****

After breakfast, Greg brought Neen back to the motel room and asked about her mother.  “You said you found her house torn up when you got back.  I assume they didn’t find anything or they wouldn’t have torn it up like that.  Did you have anything of hers with you or in a safe deposit box or somewhere else?”

She held out her hand to show him the ring she wore on her pinky finger, a gold band with an oval on top.  A raised design on the oval looked like a child’s scribble.  Greg reached out and she pulled it off and handed it to him.  “I used to have a little locket with that same design on the front, but the chain broke one day when I was at the zoo with my mother, and I lost the locket.”

He examined the ring to see if there was anything fastened underneath.

She pointed.  “The top opens.” 

There were two pictures inside. One photo showed a striking woman with dark hair and brown eyes, and the other was of a cute little girl with auburn braids and green eyes.  She had a front tooth missing.  Neen.  “Is this your mother?”

“Yes.  That’s one reason I didn’t think Julio was my uncle.”

“Why?”

“Look at that picture of my mother and then look at me.  She was five-foot nothing, tiny and delicate, and Julio is a wiry little guy.  I don’t look like her and I sure as hell don’t resemble Julio, with his brown skin and dark brown hair and eyes.  I’m five-eight without shoes, and there’s nothing delicate about me.  My hair has red in it, and my skin is shades lighter than my mother’s.  And I have green eyes.  I suppose it’s possible to have one parent with dark hair and eyes, but not both.  That means Julio probably isn’t my uncle and my mother—”

“Probably wasn’t your natural mother,” he said.  “Were you adopted?”

“I don’t know, Greg.  I asked her and she denied it.”

Interesting.  It was highly unlikely that two babies with the same name were born in Tulsa, Oklahoma on the same day.  “Neen, is it possible that your father wasn’t Ramon Ruiz?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. I never met my father, Greg.  I have no pictures and no idea what he looked like.”

He peered closely at the design on the top of the ring.  “It looks like letters jumbled together, but they’re too small to read.”

Neen took a black marking pen and rubbed it on the top of the ring and carefully transferred that image to a piece of paper.  “I wonder if they’d let us use the copier in the motel office to blow this up.”

Greg left the room and returned with several copies of the design, the largest blown up to about four by six inches.  It came out backwards, but readable when she held it up to a mirror. 

While Neen tried to decipher the design, Greg worked on the computer. 

He said, “There was only one Gloria Alexandra Summers born in Tulsa that year.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out,” said Neen.  “I wish I had a picture of the woman who died in Tulsa.”

He closed his laptop.  “Are you up for a trip?”

“To Tulsa?”

“Where else?  For all we know the root of this trouble could be somewhere in your mother’s past.  If that’s the case, we might find the answers in Tulsa.  I’ll go check out while you pack.”

As he walked down to the office, Greg wondered where Neen had found the strength to keep going for the past three years.  That gutsy woman had survived on instinct, intelligence, and courage.  

*****

While Greg drove, Neen put her head back and thought about her mother, or the woman she’d always thought of as her mother.  Mom didn’t let anyone get close.  She had a few friends, but they were more like casual acquaintances, people she was friendly with, but not close enough to confide in. 

As Neen was growing up, she’d asked about her father many times, but Mom said he died when Neen was a baby.  She had no pictures, nothing but a name on her birth certificate.  Ramon Ruiz, born in 1950 in San Diego.  Mom was born in 1958, or so she said.  At this point, Neen didn’t know what to believe.  Was the Gloria Summers who died years ago her real mother?  Or was it the woman Neen had always called Mom? 

Greg put his hand over hers and asked what she was thinking about. 

“I want to know who I grew up with, who I buried.” 

He squeezed her hand.  “Maybe she wasn’t the woman who gave birth to you, but the Gloria Summers you buried was your mother in every way that counts.” 

That much was true.  Natural mother or not, Mom had always made Neen feel loved and cherished. 

After a few minutes of silence, he asked, “Did I ever tell you I was adopted?”

“No.”  

“A neighbor found me and Bo wandering around outside the apartment complex we lived in with our natural mother.  The cop who responded to the emergency call sent my mother to the hospital, where she later died.  All I remember about that day is Bo holding onto my hand so hard it hurt.”

“Oh, Greg.  How old were you?”

“Two.  Bo was three.  Dad was the cop who came that day.  He had to turn us over to Child Protective Services, but he and Mom filed for custody right away, and that’s where we ended up.  Mom was a stay-at-home mother with two other kids.  We couldn’t have found a better family.” 

“What did your mother die from?”

“Pneumonia.”

After a moment of silence, she asked, ““What about your natural father?”

“He was an older man, married, and he didn’t want his wife to know about us.  Dad said he signed away his parental rights so we could be adopted.  Bo and I tracked him down when we were in high school.  The old man called us every nasty name in the book and Bo decked him.  That bastard wasn’t a father.  He was nothing but a sperm donor.”

“Are the other kids in your family adopted, too?”

“Yep.  Chance is half Korean.  He’s an attorney, married with three kids.  And my sister…”  He smiled.  “Mia has a delicate, exotic look about her, but she’s one tough lady.”  Greg glanced at Neen.  “She’s a cop now.”

Neen didn’t want to talk about family.  She buried the only member of her family she’d ever known in a cemetery in Tacoma.  “Would you stop at the rest area up ahead?”

As he pulled off the highway, he said, “Biology doesn’t necessarily connect us.  It’s love that matters, and the woman who raised you loved you.  Whoever she was, she was your real mother.”  He parked and turned off the engine.  “I want you to remember that when we start digging in Tulsa.”

She unfastened her seatbelt and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  He was trying to make her feel better about herself, but at that moment, she felt adrift.  Most adopted kids were told when they were young, but Neen was led to believe that the woman who raised her, the woman she called Mom, was her natural mother, even though they shared no physical traits. 

Neen didn’t know who the sperm donor was when it came to her existence.  For all she knew, Julio had a brother named Ramon, and he was her natural father.  It wasn’t likely, but she couldn’t rule it out.  All she knew was that there were two women buried under the same name. The name of the woman listed as her mother on her birth certificate.  The first death could have been faked, but the second death was very real.  Neen identified the mangled body herself.     

Several times, Neen offered to drive that day, but Greg said he’d rather do the driving and she didn’t mind.  Once they reached Idaho and Montana, the scenery captivated her.  They were a few hours ahead of the snowstorm that had hit Tacoma, so the roads were clear.  Snow from a previous storm clung to the mountaintops and pooled on shady patches below, and the sky went on forever.  Being here with Greg gave her a sense of peace, but the peace wouldn’t last when Julio’s men found them.

She had to admit that she hadn’t made it easy for Greg to find her.  Running from Julio’s men taught her how to disappear without leaving a trail.  She learned to carry everything of importance with her.  Her mother’s bank accounts had thousands in them, but she’d spent most of it while keeping one step ahead of the men.  One way or another, this had to end soon.

Aside from necessary stops, they pushed ahead, putting the miles behind them.  Greg pulled off the highway in Billings, Montana and found a motel room.  Like before, he got a room in the back with one bed.  This time she didn’t say a word. 

Neen took a long, hot shower.  When she came out, the contents of her purse were strewn all over the bed.  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanted to see if there was anything in your purse that Julio’s men might want.”

She glared at him.  “You could have asked me.”

“I could have, but I didn’t.”

“And I’ll bet you didn’t find anything, either, did you?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t in your purse.”

She whipped around to look for the ring she’d left on the dresser.  He’d opened the top and pulled the pictures out. 

Greg held his index finger out.  It had a little black dot on the end.  “I found it behind your picture.  Since you were about six or so in the picture, I assume it’s been in there for a few years.”

*****

Neen looked stunned, standing there with her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing that flimsy bathrobe his mother had packed for her, her skin all pink from the hot shower.  Greg put the dot on the back of Neen’s picture and pushed it into place in the ring.  It was as safe there as anywhere.  “Neen, we need to get this to Denver before we go to Tulsa.”

“Why Denver?”

“I have a friend in the FBI there.  Dave Montgomery.  As I said before, officially I’m no longer working for the DEA, but unofficially—”

She waved both hands.  “Okay, fine.  I don’t care who you’re working for, or not working for.  We’ll go to Denver first.  My butt will be numb from sitting in that damn Jeep so long, but sure, okay, let’s go to Denver.” 

One corner of his mouth curled up.  “You don’t like my Jeep?”

“Not especially.” 

“I know how to work out the soreness in your cute little ass.”  Greg patted her behind.  “We’ll work on that after my shower.” 

He walked toward the bathroom and she called him back.  “You’re not doing anything else until you put everything back the way you found it.”  From her tone of voice, he knew she meant business.

Glancing at the stacks of money, clothes, and other clutter, and then at the purse, he wondered how she’d gotten it all in there in the first place.  He’d always been lousy at packing.  “Uh… I’m not sure I can—”

She narrowed her eyes.  “Try.”

While she stood watching, he rolled up her clothes and tucked them in the bottom and then piled everything in on top of them.  But it wouldn’t all fit.  So he tried again.  It still wouldn’t fit.  How did she do this?

After a few minutes, Neen pushed him aside.  “You’re hopeless.  Get out of my way.”

It took her less than a minute to organize and pack that suitcase she called a purse.  “Neen, honey, you have some amazing hidden talents.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “You have no idea what talents I have and if you snoop in my personal things again, I guarantee you’ll never have a chance to discover them.”

A smile crept up on him.  “Whoa, that sounds promising.”  He whistled on his way to the shower.  

*****

Neen sat on the bed and sighed.  Did he want her or was he just trying to make her feel better?  She glanced at her ring on the dresser.  He’d put the little black dot – a microdot, she assumed – back where he’d found it.  What was on that thing?  It must be something important enough to kill for, because the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if Julio didn’t have her mother killed.  The truck that hit Mom kept going and, even though witnesses had described it and written down the license number, the police couldn’t find it.  The license plate had been stolen off an SUV a week earlier. 

While Greg showered, Neen sat at the little table in front of the window with a highlighter, pen, and one of the copies of the ring design.  As she identified a backward letter, she highlighted it, and then wrote that letter on the bottom of the page.  She was halfway through when Greg came out wearing a towel around his waist, rubbing his long hair with a towel.  She couldn’t look away.  His arms and shoulders were thick with strong muscles and there wasn’t an ounce of extra fat on him.  The light brown chest hair she’d seen a glimpse of yesterday covered the center of his chest, tapered down to his belly button, and disappeared under the towel.  She had a sudden desire to explore the treasures beneath the towel, but she couldn’t allow herself to get attached to him again.  After this was over, he’d be gone again, and her ego couldn’t handle another rejection like the last one.  She focused on the task at hand.

He looked over her shoulder.  “What are you doing?”

“Unscrambling the letters.”  

He pointed to the page.  “There’s an N.”

“Where?”  She thought all the letters were small script, but when her eyes finally caught the letter he pointed to, she realized it was twice the size of the others.  She spotted a big G and one other letter that size, an M.  She highlighted those and wrote them on the bottom of the page, making them bigger than the others. 

He leaned over her shoulder, his body warm and damp and smelling like the soap she’d used earlier.  She couldn’t resist saying, “You smell good.”

Nuzzling into her neck, he sniffed and whispered, “So do you.”

Her skin tingled from his warm breath.  She turned slightly toward him and his lips gently touched her cheek.  It was as if the world stopped as she anticipated what he’d do next.  “Greg,” she whispered, and his lips took possession of hers.  He didn’t touch her anywhere except her lips, but it was enough to start the aching at the bottom of her belly.  Parting her lips slightly, she encouraged him to deepen the kiss, and felt herself grow weaker.  But how could she go on if she let herself fall in love with him and then lost him again?   

He ended the kiss and put his warm cheek against hers.  “God, you taste good,” he murmured. 

So did he, but she couldn’t tell him that, not now.  Before they made love, she had to know he wouldn’t disappear again when this ended.  And right now, aside from the yearning in her body, she wasn’t sure of anything.  Three years ago, she’d fallen fast and hard, and he’d hurt her deeply.  She had to stay in control this time, especially with Julio’s men out there somewhere, looking for them.

Greg hunched down beside her chair.  He threaded his fingers through her hair and rubbed her cheek gently with his thumb.  “No pressure, Neen.  I’m here when you’re ready.  I’m not going anywhere this time, honey.”

Deep breaths weren’t enough to calm her fluttering heart.  Staying in the same room with him was harder than she’d anticipated, especially when he kissed her like that. 

He brought his laptop to the table and turned it on.  When Neen finished highlighting the letters, she read those letters to him and he typed them into the computer. 

“The three big letters are M, N, and G.  I assume those are the first letters of the words.”

“Or names,” he said. 

“Yes, or names.”  She read off the other letters and he pulled out the letters to spell Neen.  Then he pulled out other letters to make Gloria.  She and Greg both played with the remaining letters - r, a, d, i, another a, and n.  She said, “Diana is in there, but there’s an M and r left.”

“It starts with M.”  Greg slapped the table and smiled.  “I got it.  It’s Miranda.” 

She wrote the name on the bottom of the page beside the letters, then checked off the letters.  “Miranda.  Yes, that’s probably it.  I wonder what her last name was.”

“We’ll find out.  I’m a cop, remember?  A detective.”

“Oh, yeah?  What do you detect?”

“Things like…”  he wiggled his eyebrows,  “… hidden talents,” he said, and she fought a smile.  How could any woman resist this guy?

*****

Greg flipped channels on the television until he found a music station, then took her hand and bowed.  “May I have this dance?”  It was a slow song, one meant for lovers, and that’s what he wanted them to be before this night was over.  Lovers.

Romancing this woman would be a pleasure, and it might keep her from running out on him. 

Neen looked at him like he was crazy, but she went along with it, as he knew she would.  The hard nubs of her nipples pushed against the thin fabric of her robe, and he knew she was his. 

They moved around the bed as one, letting the music carry them, until he was so hard he was ready to explode.  He loosened her robe and pushed it out of his way, then pulled her bare breasts against his chest.  She reached around his neck and he lowered his head for a kiss.  In seconds, they were on the bed and he was lost in her sweet kisses, his hands stroking her silky skin.

And then the phone rang.

Chapter Four

Neen stiffened.  The romantic mood vanished, replaced by mind numbing fear.  Someone knows where we are.  “Greg, did you tell anyone where we were?”

“No.”  He jumped off the bed, yanked his jeans on, and stuffed his feet into his loafers.  And the phone rang again. 

While he reached for the phone, she scrambled off the bed and quickly pulled her clothes on.  Neen was always prepared to run, but this had caught her completely off-guard.  She tossed the sketches into her purse and closed his laptop, throwing everything important into the tote bag.   

Greg put his hand on her arm.  “Neen, it’s all right.  The guy had the wrong room.”

“If you’re not ready in twenty seconds, I’m going without you.”

Greg stared at her.  “You’re serious?”

“Someone knows where we are.  Maybe it’s the good guys and maybe not, but I can’t tell the difference.  Whoever it is, I’m out of here.  And you’re wasting time which endangers us both.”

The door to the room opened off a central hallway, but the room had sliding glass doors and a patio overlooking a little creek in the back.  While Greg pulled on his shirt and stuffed his wallet and keys in his pockets, she turned out the lights and peeked around the drapes.  “There’s a man at the corner of the building.  I assume there’s another one in the hallway.  Which way do you want to go?”

Greg had his coat on, gun drawn.  She slung her purse strap over her neck, pushed her purse under her left arm, and grabbed his tote bag.  Then she pulled out her gun and prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. 

“Which corner?” he asked.

“On the right, by the parking lot.”

“Anything on the left?”

“There’s a big bush there and I can’t see that far.  Is it Julio’s men?”

“I don’t know who it is, but we’re not taking any chances.  Don’t shoot unless they shoot first.  If we hit a fed, we’re in big trouble.”

“As if we’re not already,” she muttered.

Someone tapped on the door.  Greg said, “Now,” and they ran out the sliding door, Greg on the right and Neen on the left. 

The man by the corner on the right yelled, “Police.  Hold it right there,” and Neen froze.  Greg backed into her and they both stepped back until they no longer stood in front of the glass door.  An automatic weapon went off inside the room, shattering the glass door, and Neen took off running, with Greg right behind her.  Around the corner, she shoved her key card into the side entrance, ducked into the motel hallway with Greg, and pulled the door closed behind her. 

It was late and, except for the woman answering phones at the front desk, the lobby was deserted.  The woman at the desk didn’t see them as they dashed into the ladies room near the closed restaurant and locked the door. 

“Neen, can you make me look like a woman?”

“I can try.”  She went to work, pulling out lipstick and mascara. She combed and styled Greg’s hair so he’d look more like a woman.  The rope-like veins in his neck pulsed hard from their close escape, and her heart pounded, but they couldn’t take time to think about what had just happened.  They had things to do, like figure out how to get away from the motel without arousing suspicion. 

Neen pulled a purple print scarf out of her purse and draped it around his neck, and then she ripped his jacket lining in the front and added wads of toilet paper.  His loafers and jeans would work for a man or woman, and so would his curly hair.  Using the little scissors from her purse, she trimmed it around his face so it would curl more. 

When she finished, she turned him around and pointed to the mirror. 

“That’s one butt ugly woman,” he whispered.  No matter what she did, she couldn’t turn this macho guy into a woman. 

She carefully gathered all the hair in a paper towel and stuffed it down toward the bottom of the trashcan.  Then she twisted her hair and pinned it up on top of her head. 

“Ready?” she whispered.

“For what?”

“I saw a cowboy bar on the way in.  We’ll walk down there and see if someone will give us a lift to the bus station.”  She had no intention of hanging around the motel until the cops got here, and it wasn’t safe on the street.  They needed a place to hang out for a few hours.  The bar might work for an hour or two, and then they’d go to the bus station.  “Keep your mouth shut and that scarf around your neck to hide your Adam’s apple.” 

“Leave my Jeep?” 

She’d done this enough times to know not to take her car.  “Greg, if we take it, they’ll know.  And they probably planted a tracking device on it.”  Or a bomb.

They came out of the restroom and walked toward the front door of the lobby.  Neen asked the wide-eyed desk clerk, “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s shooting out back.  The police are on the way.” 

As the desk clerk answered a ringing phone, Neen and Greg walked out the door.

Walking through the parking lot across the street, they ducked between the cars, keeping out of sight as much as possible.  The shooters were probably long gone, but they didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. 

Nearing the cowboy bar, she said, “Carry that tote bag under your arm.  You’re slinging it around like you’re going to hit someone with it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Computer, ID, guns, underwear, shirt, socks, deodorant, toothbrush, electric shaver, and—”

“How did you—”

“Be quiet and link your arm with mine, girlfriend.  Stay close to me, and for God’s sake, don’t walk into the men’s room.  Your name is Gigi.  And please remember you’re a woman, and don’t walk in there like a macho dude cop.”

“Who, me?”

Two police cars passed by with lights flashing and sirens wailing.  They were too late to do any good.  The bad guys were still in the area, but they’d left the motel.  Uncle Julio had stepped up his efforts to kill her now that she was with Greg.  Whatever those men wanted, they must be afraid she’d give it to him.  Did they want the microdot Greg had found in the ring?  She couldn’t imagine what else she had on her that they could possibly want.

She pushed the door open and walked inside the bar, with Greg right behind her.  The place was nearly empty, but the two men at the bar looked over and grinned.  Greg whispered, “I hope they’re drunk or they’ll never think I’m—”

She stepped back on his foot.  Hard.  He shut up.

The two men introduced themselves as Buck and Tiny.  Buck latched onto Neen and she couldn’t keep his hands off her.  Tiny, a big brute with beady little eyes had obviously been drinking for awhile, because he could barely stand up. 

Tiny stared at Greg.  “You look like a guy I used to know back in…”  He tried to snap his fingers, but he couldn’t quite make it work.  “Back in…”  A huge belch ripped from his mouth and Neen fanned the air in front of her face.  Greg grinned and Neen elbowed him in the ribs to keep him from laughing. 

Things were getting out of hand with Buck, and Neen had to do something quick, before Greg slugged one of these men.  Or both.  She might do that herself if they didn’t back off.  Forget the ride to the bus station.  She would never get into a car with these two drunks. 

They needed a distraction to get out of there, so she baited the big one, Tiny.  “You’re so drunk you can’t see straight.  Get away from my girlfriend, right now.”  

Tiny put his face in hers and she nearly fell over from the smell of his breath.  She stood, put her hands on his shoulders, and shoved.  “Help me out here, Buck.” 

Buck stood and shoved Tiny away from the table.  “Leave my woman alone.”

“Oh, yeah, or what?” said Tiny, his face in Buck’s this time.

While Buck and Tiny faced off, Neen grabbed Greg’s hand and pulled him out the door and into the parking lot, where they could hide between the cars.  They were standing between a panel truck and a big SUV when Buck flew through the door and landed on his behind.  He scrambled to his feet before Tiny burst through the door, swinging at Buck.  He missed, lost his balance, and fell into Buck.  Buck punched him in the stomach and Tiny threw up. 

“Aw, shit,” yelled Buck.  “Damn drunk puked all over me.”

Greg grinned.  “What’s your next best idea?”

“Oh, shut up.”   

He kissed her, a raunchy, open-mouth kiss that reminded her of what they’d almost done in the motel.  But they had no time for regrets.  They couldn’t stand out here in the bar parking lot kissing all night.  They had to find someplace to hang out until morning.  Before the killers found them.

*****

An hour later, with Greg’s mascara washed off, they sat in the waiting room at the bus station.  “Greg, how did they know we were there?  Did your friend tell them?”

“No, I trust Dave.”

“What if they planted a tracking device on the Jeep?”

He shook his head.  “They wouldn’t have known about the Jeep.”  He stared at her purse and then gazed into her eyes. 

She closed her eyes and sighed.  Pulling out the paper with the ring design on it, she wrote, “Bug?”

He shook his head.  “I would have seen that.  A locator beacon, maybe.” 

“Then why aren’t they here?  Why didn’t they follow us to the cowboy bar?”

“What did you leave behind?”

It took her a few seconds to respond.  “My favorite lipstick.  I dropped it on the floor and it rolled under the bed.”

“What else?”

“I left a jar of cold cream on the sink.  And my lotion.”

“Could be.  Has anything shown up in your purse that you didn’t know you had?”

She glanced at her purse.  “I had two jars of cold cream, and I couldn’t remember buying the second one.  They were both half empty.”

“Do you have the second jar in your purse?”

“Yes.  I’ll leave it here.”

“Here?  Honey, they’ll know we took a bus.”

“We can’t get on a bus, Greg.  We’d never get through the metal detector.  We’re just hanging out until the sun comes up.  Those goons never crawl out of their holes until afternoon anyway.”

“In that case, could you give me a quick haircut?”

“Now?”

Greg glanced around.  In the nearly deserted station, one man stood behind the counter reading a newspaper, another man snored on a bench, and an old woman with a big carpetbag slept in a chair in the corner.  “Neen, check out the women’s lounge.”

Neen walked in and seconds later walked out and motioned to him.  He sat in a chair by a makeup table while she pulled a comb and scissors out of her purse or suitcase or whatever she called that thing she carried around. 

She trimmed a good six inches off, leaving about two inches all over his head.  Curls sprang up as she combed it with a wet comb and then ran her fingers through it.  He wet the comb again and combed the sides back from his face.  “Not bad.”  

“I used to cut my roommate’s hair in college.  She had curly hair like yours.  She called it ‘the Little Orphan Annie look.’“ 

“Sorry I can’t return the favor.  I’m a klutz with scissors.”  He helped her clean up the hair she’d trimmed off so they could hide the evidence that he’d changed his appearance. 

On their way out of the women’s lounge, Neen grabbed Greg’s arm and sniffed.  He ducked behind the door and pulled his gun.  She held up a finger.  Wait a minute?  Wait for what?  For those goons to come in shooting?  Peeking through the crack between the hinges of the door, Greg got a good look at the two men.  He’d seen them before, but they weren’t the ones who shot at them at the motel tonight.  These two didn’t even carry guns.

Neen squirted a puddle of shampoo on the floor in the middle of the double doorway and then stepped back into the restroom, out of sight.  The shorter of the two men, the one who smelled of apple gum, walked through the door and his feet flew out from under him.  He landed flat on his back.  The clerk at the counter woke up long enough to point and say, “Hey, buddy, men’s room is over there.”

The tall man reached down to help his friend up and he slipped and fell, too. 

The clerk asked, “What’s going on?”

“There’s something slippery all over the floor,” said the tall man. 

The old woman woke, but the man on the bench snorted and snored in his sleep.  The clerk went for a mop and bucket, and the two men tried again to come into the ladies lounge.  It was a Three Stooges show. Only there were only two of them.  Neen came out and motioned to Greg, and they stepped carefully around the men and the puddle of shampoo, and walked out the door of the bus station.  The men stared at them in surprise, but they couldn’t get up.  They weren’t armed and didn’t appear dangerous.  If anything, they seemed a little afraid of getting caught. 

“It’s on their shoes,” Neen said on their way down the side street.  “I did it once before and it took them several minutes to get out of the building.”

Greg admired her resourcefulness. It was unexpected in a non-professional.  Of course, she’d had three years of training in evasive maneuvers.  When this ended, if it ever ended, she could teach classes to law enforcement professionals. 

Neen called the shots now, and she had since they left the motel.  And strangely, he didn’t mind.  “Okay, boss, where to next?”

“We find a warm place to hang out until the car dealers open, and then we buy ourselves a car.”

“Did you put the money in my bag?”

Neen stared at him.  “What money?”

He groaned.  He’d hidden money and phony ID in the lining of his suitcase.  He only had a couple hundred dollars in his wallet.  She had a few thousand in her purse.  Was it enough to buy a decent car and get where they were going?  “What do we buy a car with, my good looks?”

“No, silly.  My good looks.” 

“This I gotta see.”  He would no doubt learn another lesson in survival the Neen Summers way.

*****

Sitting in a booth in the corner of a dumpy all-night diner, Greg thought about the two men he’d seen in the bus station.  He’d seen them leaving Neen’s apartment in Bremerton a few months ago, but they weren’t the ones looking for Neen in the cemetery.  Did they all work for Ruiz?  The ones in the cemetery did, because he recognized them from mug shots, but the two bozos in the bus station didn’t look familiar, and they didn’t act like professionals. 

“Neen, are those two men at the bus station the ones who’ve been following you all this time?”

“For the most part.”

“Have they ever threatened you or shot at you?”

“No, they just tear up my apartments and sometimes my car.”

“Do they speak Spanish?”

Her eyebrows knit in a questioning look.  “No. They don’t even speak with an accent, except one of them sounds like he’s from the South.”

The light came on in his very tired brain.  “Then they don’t work for Ruiz.  I don’t know who in the hell they do work for, but Ruiz wouldn’t keep incompetent people like that around.  From what I’ve heard about him, one screw-up and you’re dead.”

“Then who do they work for?  Why are they following me?”

He put his hand over hers and squeezed.  “I don’t know, honey, but we’ll find out.”  The more he learned, the less he knew, but that was true of most investigations.  At the moment, he had more questions than answers, but at some point it would all come together.  It always did. 

Four cups of coffee made Greg jumpy, and staying up all night left him exhausted.  It had been four years since he’d pulled an all-nighter.  Neen looked tired, too, but she was still hard at work, finding them transportation.  She struck up a conversation with the waitress.  “Our car quit about three miles out of town and we need something else to drive.  Do you know anyone with a car for sale?”

The waitress asked, “How much are you looking to spend?”

Neen sighed.  “As little as possible.  My mother is sick and I need to get to her quickly.  If I could get there by bus, I’d do it, but she lives way out in the sticks.”

“My husband’s got a rusty old pickup that runs pretty good.  Shoot, it just sits there since he got the new one.”

Greg leaned forward.  “How old?”

“I think it’s an ‘86.  High mileage and it rattles, but it’ll get you where you’re going.”

“How much?” asked Neen.

“I’ll call and ask him now.  Shoot, it’s time for him to get up anyway.” 

After the waitress walked away, Greg glanced at his watch.  Four o’clock in the morning.  “I wonder what he does for a living.” 

At five-thirty, Greg drove the pickup down the highway toward Wyoming.  Neen’s window wouldn’t roll all the way up and the front bumper was tied on with rope, but the waitress was right.  It ran ‘pretty good.’  Neen had spent ten minutes with damp paper towels, wiping the dust and grime off the inside of the truck.  The engine purred as if it was brand new, and it should be for what she paid for it.  Still, who’d think to look for them in this thing?  Dot’s husband said he’d tried to get the canopy off, but it had rusted onto the truck.  The canopy wasn’t the only thing rusted on the truck.

In Sheridan, Wyoming, they stopped at a sporting goods store and bought a few camping supplies, including sleeping bags and a lantern, so they could sleep in the truck if necessary.  Neen picked out heavy sweatshirts and sweatpants for them both, so they’d have something warm to sleep in, but Greg had a different idea for keeping warm, since the two sleeping bags could zip together into one larger one.  One sample of her kisses and he wanted more.  They just needed a place to hide for a few days. 

By noon, he couldn’t keep his eyes open and Neen offered to drive.  After they stopped for lunch in Casper, he crawled in back, stretched out on top of a sleeping bag, and pulled the other one on top of him to keep warm.  He made a quick phone call to Dave Montgomery in Denver and then let the rumble and sway of the truck lull him to sleep. 

*****

Neen played with the radio, rolled the window up and down, did isometric exercises, anything to stay awake.  Greg needed to sleep before he took the wheel again, and it was the first time he’d trusted her enough to let her drive.  The man was a control freak, but after this long on her own, so was she.  If she hadn’t taken control in Billings, they wouldn’t have gotten out of the city alive. 

Greg had been driving toward Denver, but Neen had no intention of driving into the city.  What if this FBI agent friend of his was really in cahoots with Julio and the other dirty DEA agents?  He could have tipped Julio off where to find them last night.  If he were really on their side, the agent wouldn’t mind meeting them somewhere outside Denver.  Greg wouldn’t like the change in plans, but he’d have to deal with it.

Without waking Greg, she took an exit off the Interstate.  Instead of going to Colorado, she headed for Nebraska.  There must be another FBI office on the way to Tulsa, another place for Greg to read that little microdot.

Greg woke three hours later and called to Neen through the window between the cab and the canopy.  “Where are we?”

“Almost to Scottsbluff, Nebraska, and it’s your turn to drive.  I’m beat.”

“Aren’t we on I-25?”

“No, your friend will have to meet us somewhere else or we won’t see him at all.”

“Damn it, Neen, that’s not necessary.”

“Oh, yes it is.  We still don’t know how Julio’s men found us.”

He sighed and leaned back against the cab.  “Damn stubborn woman.  Stop up ahead somewhere so I can drive.”

“Are you always this grumpy when you wake up, or is it your turn to be the boss?”

“Pull over and let me the hell out of here,” he snapped.

“If you’re going back to that macho dude cop routine, you can stay back there.”

He leaned through the window and screamed, “Stop the damn truck!” 

Burning with anger, Neen pulled over, dropped the truck keys in her purse, and walked away.  The only way the door in back would stay closed was to lock it, but Greg didn’t know she’d locked him in.

Seconds later, she heard him bellowing.  Now he knows.

A car whizzed by and then another.  Neen stuck her thumb out for the next one, but it flew on by, too.  Tears stung her eyes.  They were both so tired, they were sniping at each other, and she’d lost patience. 

The next car stopped, but Greg had broken out of the truck by then.  She climbed in beside an old man who stunk like scotch.  He put his hand on her leg, so she reached over, pushed the gear lever into neutral, and turned the engine off.  Before the car had come to a stop she jumped out.  The old man swore up a storm.  She threw the keys into the field and ran away. 

Greg pulled up beside her in the old pickup.  He must have hotwired it.  She walked along the side of the nearly deserted road, and he drove slowly beside her.  When she stopped walking, he stopped the truck.  “Come on, Neen, get in the damn truck.”

“Not until you apologize for yelling at me.”

“Are you apologizing for locking me in the back?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not apologizing for yelling.”

“I don’t need you, Greg.”

“Damn it, Neen.  I know that, but we’re better off staying together.”

Yes, they were, but she wouldn’t admit it to him.  She walked down the road and he followed, showing more patience than he’d shown earlier.  They passed the guy who’d stopped to give her a ride.  He was still searching the field for his car keys.  She knew exactly where they’d landed, but she wouldn’t tell him.  He called her a few choice names, and she kept walking. 

Finally, too cold to stay outside any longer, she turned to face Greg.  He no longer looked angry, just tired.  Without a word, she opened the passenger door and climbed in.  He could have said something unkind, but he didn’t. 

Exhaustion ate at her, but if she crawled in the back to sleep, he’d lock her in and throw away the key.  She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.  She was almost asleep when he spoke.  “Let’s get one thing straight.  I’m the professional here, and when I say to do something, you’ll do it.  Got that?”

“If you ever yell at me like that again, I’ll do more than lock you in the truck.  Got that?” 

He fiddled with the radio and tuned in a country station, the only thing that came in clearly.  “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me until we get through this.”

“Why?  Because you want someone to boss around?”

“Seems to me you’ve been doing the bossing lately.”

She stared out the open window.

Several seconds later, he said, “Honey, I don’t want to see your body zipped into a body bag, and I’m still on duty.”

“But you said—”

“I said I didn’t go back to work for the DEA.  I didn’t say I wasn’t still working.  I’m undercover with the FBI, and Dave is my contact.  Before I went to sleep, I called him and he tipped me off that someone from the DEA was looking for me.  Apparently the man I shot is accusing me of being the dirty agent.”

“Oh, great,” she said on a groan.  “So now the good guys and the bad guys are both going to be shooting at us, and if we shoot back and hit the wrong one—”

“They’ll either kill us or lock us up forever.”

She wanted nothing more than to go home and put this behind her, but she didn’t have a home, didn’t have a family, didn’t have anyone to rely on except Greg, and he was still angry.   Maybe she should let those men kill her and get it over with, because she was sick to death of running.  “I want to sleep for at least a week.”

“If we can’t find a way out of this, we may sleep forever, with Wilbert Whatshisname.”

Neen rubbed the goose bumps from her arms.  “Wilbert Mortimer Angelthorpe.  His name was Wilbert Mortimer Angelthorpe.”

Chapter Five

Neen drifted off to sleep in the truck and dreamed of being the target in a carnival game.  Instead of people shooting at ducks, they shot at her.  She woke with Greg gently shaking her shoulder.  “Neen, wake up, honey.”

She blinked her eyes and yawned.  He smiled, a tired smile, but definitely a smile.  She stretched her arms and asked, “Where are we?”

He leaned back.  “Still in Nebraska.  Hungry?”

“More tired than hungry.  I want to sleep for a whole week.”

“Yeah, I hear you.  I could use about three days of non-stop sack time myself.  I thought we’d get a bite to eat and drive on down toward the Kansas border.  There are some little lakes down that way.  We’ll see if we can find a cabin to rent.  It’s too cold to camp out tonight.”

“Sounds good to me.”  Anything sounded good to her, as long as they were safe and warm.  She shivered and rubbed her arms.  The heater in the truck worked, but the heat went out the open window.  “Is it getting colder?”

“The temperature is dropping.  The guy on the radio said there was snow on the way, which is why I stopped.  We’ll get sandwiches and a few groceries before we go on.” 

Neen used the bathroom at the little gas station’s market while Greg filled the gas tank.  The clerk filled them in on the coming storm, although Neen knew Greg had already heard about it on the radio.  The storm was supposed to hit in about three hours, which should give them time to eat and find a place to stay.  Greg bought a map and studied it while she bought enough food to last them a couple days. 

They ate sandwiches and drank hot coffee in the truck and, avoiding the main highways, headed toward the Kansas border.  An hour later, Neen saw the sign for the campgrounds and cabins up ahead, but the next sign said Closed for the Winter. 

Greg punched the steering wheel.  “Aw, shit!” 

He pulled off at the next gas station and asked the man behind the counter if he knew of a cabin with a fireplace they could rent for a few days.  “I know it’s the wrong time of year, but my wife and I... well... it’s our honeymoon and we wanted someplace to be alone.  I’m sure you understand.”

To reinforce Greg’s act, Neen draped her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder.  He gazed down at her and planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

The old man’s eyes twinkled.  “Me and the wife have a little place down by the lake. A summer rental.  People don’t usually want to rent here during the winter, but shoot, why not?  It’s one big room with a stone fireplace.  Sheets and towels are in the closet.  They’re clean, but the place isn’t made up because we weren’t expecting renters until April.”

“Hey, no problem.  We’ve been driving all night, so any place with a bed sounds good to me,” said Greg.  “We’ve been camping, but it’s too cold to sleep outside tonight.”

“Which way you headed?” asked the man.

“Missoula, to see her folks, since they couldn’t come to the wedding.  We live in New Mexico, wanted to see some of the country on the way to Montana, but we didn’t count on the snow.  Guy on the radio said it would be a mild winter, but I guess his crystal ball malfunctioned.”

The man chuckled and gave them directions. 

The first fat snowflakes splattered on the windshield by the time Greg and Neen found the cabin.  It overlooked the lake.  It must be nice in the summer, when those bare tree branches turned green and fluffy with leaves. 

“A log cabin,” said Neen.  “Pretty setting.”

“Isolated,” he said.  “Let’s get this stuff inside before I move the truck.”

“Move it where?”

He motioned with his head.  “Behind those bushes on the right side of the cabin.  I’ll cover it the best I can, and the snow should cover our tracks.”

She waved her hand.  “I threw away the cold cream, and it nearly always takes them a few weeks, sometimes months, to find me.”

“Who, Apple Gum and Cough Drop?  I’m not worried about them.  I worry about those trigger-happy bastards who work for Ruiz.”

Neen carried the groceries inside and glanced around.  French doors on both sides of the big stone fireplace on the back wall overlooked a pretty little lake.  The bed sat on the left near the door, and the kitchen filled the back corner on the right.  A wide counter and stools separated it from the living area.  A bathroom and closet were tucked into the front corner on the right. 

The cabin felt cold, only a few degrees warmer than the air outside.  It would take a lot of logs to warm it to a tolerable level, and the fireplace appeared to be the only source of heat.

After they carried their things inside, Greg moved the truck and went back out for wood for the fireplace.  Neen searched the kitchen.  Someone had left a bag of spaghetti and a jar of sauce, soup, instant coffee, hot cocoa mix, tea bags, and a few other things.

Greg, covered with snow, came inside with an armload of logs.  “It’s snowing harder.  If we want a hot shower, we’d better take it quick, in case we lose power.”

“If we have hot water.”  But when Neen turned the kitchen faucet on, hot water streamed out and steam billowed up, clouding the kitchen window. 

Greg built a fire in the fireplace.  “Is there a supply of emergency water in the kitchen?  I have a feeling the water will go out if we lose power.”

Neen searched the kitchen and found a gallon of water in the tiny pantry.  “Not enough.”  She quickly filled all the pots and the teakettle and two pitchers. 

Pulling out her new sweats, she headed for the bathroom.  Greg, still working on the fire, said, “You have five minutes, then I’m coming in, too.”

“I can’t take a shower in five minutes.”

From the grin on his face, she knew what he had in mind.  In spite of their little spat in the truck today, they both wanted the same thing.  They would have made love last night if they hadn’t been interrupted.  It was foolish to lead with her heart again, but she couldn’t help herself.  It was a risk she was willing to take.  The way things were going, neither one of them would live long enough to regret it.

She brushed her teeth and turned the shower on.  She’d emptied her big bottle of shampoo at the bus station, but she had the little one she’d saved from the hotel.  They’d have to make it last, unless... she looked under the sink and in the drawer and found a bunch of tiny shampoo and conditioner and lotion bottles from various hotels and motels. 

Greg tapped on the door.  “Me first,” said Neen.  The lights flickered, and she expected to lose power any minute.

She’d just gotten her hair wet when he stepped in behind her.  His chest and shoulders rippled with thick muscles.  She wanted to see the rest of his body, but he stood too close.  Her body tingled with anticipation. 

“I’ll wash yours if you’ll wash mine,” he said with a grin.  He massaged shampoo into her hair.

“Oh, that feels so good.”

His big hands moved down over her back and shoulders, and then around to her breasts.  Her body burned with desire, but the lights flickered again.  She quickly rinsed her hair and body and stepped back out of his way.  He rinsed the shampoo from his hair as the lights flickered again and went out.  The water pressure slowed and then died, and Greg turned the shower off.  “Looks like we’re done whether we are or not.”

Without the heat from the hot water, the steam evaporated and the air in the bathroom turned cold.  They dried off quickly and pulled on their new sweats.  Minutes later, they knelt in front of the flickering fire, drying their hair.  Greg’s wild curls made him look like an adorable little boy, but the look in his eyes was all man.  He spread the sleeping bags on the floor in front of the fire and grabbed the pillows from the bed.  Neen knew he intended to make love to her, but he dozed off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  She snuggled against his warm body and closed her eyes. 

*****

Neen woke to the smell of coffee and bright sunshine streaming through the French doors.  Greg hummed and cooked in the kitchen.  She rolled over and rubbed her eyes.  “Is the power back on?”

“No, the stove is propane.  Breakfast in five minutes.  Don’t flush the toilet until we melt some snow for the tank.”

She draped her arm over her eyes and sighed.  Things warmed between them last night, but Greg fell asleep before they could make love.  And today he was all business. 

“Four minutes,” he called. 

She’d begun to think he wanted her for more than bait to catch Julio Ruiz and the bad cops in the DEA, but she realized she was wrong.  Nothing had changed. 

“Three,” said Greg.  “If you’re not over here in three minutes, I’m eating your share.”

“My share of what?”

“Pancakes.”

“Mmm.”  She tossed her pillow aside.  “Okay, I’m up.”  Almost.

“The hell you are.  Get that pretty little ass in gear.”  He set a mug of coffee on the coffee table just out of her reach. 

She took a deep breath and sat up.  “That’s a dirty trick.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and went back to his pancakes.  And this time she got up. 

Two minutes later, she slid onto a stool at the kitchen bar and he put a plate in front of her.  One look and she laughed.  The pancake had a polka dot bow tie, chocolate chip nose, and two big ears.  “What’s it supposed to be, Mickey Mouse?”

“Yeah, I make them for my nephew.  He thinks it’s pretty cool, but then he’s only five.”

“What do you make for your niece?”

“Minnie Mouse.  Her bow is on her head.  Of course, at the tender age of three, she doesn’t fully understand the art of making the perfect pancake.”

He put a dish of brown sugar in front of her.  “Couldn’t find any syrup, but Mom swears they’re just as good with butter and brown sugar.”

After two bites, Neen said, “Mom’s right.  This is good.”

She had her pancakes half eaten when he put two more on her plate.  “Eat.  I like my women with a little meat on their bones.”

“Your women?”

He grinned and his eyes sparkled.  He had that cocky, me-man-you-woman attitude again.  “Your women?”  She put her fork down and pushed her plate back.  “And I’m supposed to obey you?  Is that how this phony marriage is supposed to work?”

He shrugged and shoveled in a big bite of pancakes. 

“No wonder you’re single.  No woman would put up with that attitude, and I have to tell you, Greg, the ‘wedding night’ was disappointing at best.”  She grabbed his plate from under his nose. 

He snatched the plate back.  “Hey, I’m not finished.”

“Maybe you’re not, but I sure as hell am.”  She set her plate by the sink.  “And you can clean up.”

Greg needled her again.  “Nope, that’s women’s work.”

She whipped around and he grinned.  “Gotcha.”  Still sitting at the kitchen counter, he snagged her wrist and pulled her against him. 

She struggled to get free, but he refused to release her.   “Kiss me, woman.  I want to see if your pancakes taste as good as mine.”  She stiffened when he started to kiss her, but he coaxed her to kiss him back.  Pulling her between his knees, he nibbled at her earlobe while she squirmed.  “The wedding night was disappointing, huh?”

“The macho dude cop is all talk and no action.” 

He pulled back to gaze deeply into her eyes.  “Honey, by the end of this day, you’ll be walking funny, because I plan to wear… you… out.”

A flood of emotions washed through her.  For three years, she felt like she was on borrowed time, that one wrong move could end her life.  The more she thought about it, the more cheated she felt, because she didn’t want to die before Greg made love to her. 

He brushed a tear off her cheek.  “Aw, honey, you’re leaking.” 

“Did you really look for me?”

With both hands cupping her face, he gazed into her eyes.  “Neen, I started looking for you before I left the hospital, but the phone at your mother’s house had already been disconnected.  My friend in the FBI helped.  Dave still had access to resources I didn’t.  But you didn’t leave many clues, and you always stayed one step in front of me.”

All that running had kept her alive, but it had also kept them apart.  “I’m so tired of running and being scared all the time.”

He stood and gathered her in his arms.  “I should have sent you home the day I met you.”

“I don’t think it would have made any difference, Greg.  Julio came looking for me.  He came to my mother’s funeral.”

*****

All along, Greg thought Ruiz wanted to kill her because she saw something in his house, but what if there was something else going on?  If he was just trying to keep her away from her mother’s house while they searched it, he could have found an easier way than bringing her to his home. 

“Neen, did Ruiz ask any questions about you and your mother?”

“He asked a lot of questions, like did we always live in Tacoma, and who Mom’s friends were, and if she ever talked about my father.  And he asked if she traveled a lot and where she went, and where she grew up.  I couldn’t figure that one out at all.  Why would he care where she grew up?”

“What did you tell him?”

“That she didn’t have any close friends, that it was always just the two of us, and that I couldn’t remember ever living anywhere else.  She went on short trips to sell her paintings, but I didn’t know where she went.  And I didn’t know anything about her childhood.  She never talked about it.”

Ruiz thought Neen knew something about her mother.  It was the only thing that made sense, the only reason Greg could think of for Ruiz to want to kill her.  Neen posed no threat to his drug operation.  She was a kid fresh out of college.  That microdot he’d found in her ring might hold the answer.  Then again, it might not. 

Those two clowns who searched Neen’s apartments and cars might be looking for the microdot, but they had never harmed her.  On the other hand, Ruiz’ men wanted her dead.  Did they know about the microdot?  Did it have anything to do with Ruiz?  He had to get that microdot to Dave.

“Neen, the next time you smell those guys coming, let’s try to catch one of them.”

She pulled back.  “Catch one?  Are you crazy?”

He shrugged.  “Maybe.  Okay, probably, but we need answers and that’s one way to get them.”

Her face screwed up in disbelief.  “Are you sure they don’t work for Julio?”

“I’d stake my life on it.  We have two separate problems here, two different sets of bad guys and two levels of danger.  Apple Gum and Cough Drop will be the easiest to handle.  The other ones, the ones with the guns, that’s a whole other ballgame.”

“What about the two women named Gloria Summers?”

“We’ll figure that one out together.”  He rubbed her back while she snuggled in.  She needed comfort and reassurance at that moment more than she needed a lover.  They had all day and all night to make love, and they would.  Of that he had no doubt.  But first, he had work to do, while there was enough light to see the computer screen.

After they finished breakfast, Greg turned on his computer, but he didn’t want to waste the battery by using it too long.  With the power out, he had no way to recharge, and he couldn’t send an e-mail without a phone connection.  There was no phone connection in the cabin, and his cell couldn’t find a signal here. 

Dave had done some research and sent him a long e-mail about Gloria Summers.  It came through before they left the motel room in Montana, but he hadn’t had a chance to read it yet.  As he read it, he relayed the information to Neen.

“Dave says there was a girl named Miranda Jacobs in the same high school class as Gloria Summers.  Here’s a fuzzy high school picture.”  The girl on the left was tiny and delicate, with dark hair and eyes, the same woman in the picture in Neen’s ring.  The woman who’d claimed to be her mother.  The beautiful bright-eyed redhead on the right looked enough like Neen to be her sister.  Looking at the two pictures side by side, it left no doubt which one had given birth to Neen.

Neen peered over his shoulder and pointed to the girl on the right.  “Is that my natural mother?”

“The one on the left is Miranda Jacobs and the one on the right is Gloria Summers.  The real Gloria Summers.  What do you think?”

She didn’t answer his question.  Instead, she asked, “How did she die?”

Greg read from the screen.  “The car she was driving went over a bridge into a fast-running river one foggy night.  The car floated several hundred yards downstream before it lodged against a big rock and debris piled on top of it.  The woman lay mostly submerged in the cold water for four days before the water receded and the fog lifted.  The coroner estimated she’d been dead less than twenty-four hours.”  He looked up at Neen.  “If someone had found her sooner, she might have lived through it.”

With his arm around Neen, Greg read on.  “The car was dented front and back.  That could mean—”

“They killed her, too?” whispered Neen.

“Maybe.  The debris in the river might have done it.”

“Or someone hit the car from behind and knocked it off the bridge.”

“That’s a likely scenario.  If it was foggy enough, whoever hit her might not have known she went over the side of the bridge.  It was ruled an accident.”

“I don’t buy it.  Someone killed her the same way they killed Miranda three years ago.  They ran her off the road and left her there to die.”

He looked up at her and wondered if he should go on or close the computer and read the rest later.  Neen was clearly upset, but she had a right to know everything, no matter how upsetting. 

Turning back to the screen, he read, “Gloria left a letter stating that in the event of her death she wanted her baby girl, Neen, to be raised by her friend, Miranda Jacobs.  Two days after the funeral, Gloria’s father filed for custody, but by that time Miranda Jacobs and the baby had disappeared.  When interviewed about his daughter’s death and the child she left behind, Judge Summers told a newspaper reporter that the baby was being cared for by a family friend.” 

Neen swallowed hard.  “My grandfather was a judge?”

“Apparently he still is.”

She paced from one end of the room to the other and stopped beside Greg.  “Can you find out whose car Gloria was driving?”

“Why?  What would that prove?”

“If it was foggy, maybe they didn’t get a clear look at the driver.  Maybe they killed the wrong woman.”

It took Greg a minute to find his voice.  He knew trained law enforcement people who would kill to have her instincts.  “What about the custody issue?  Your grandfather wanted you.”

Neen stared at the screen and then at Greg.  “What if Apple Gum and Cough Drop work for him?  What if that’s his microdot under my picture?” 

Dropping into a chair beside Greg, Neen propped her elbows on the table and sighed deeply.  “How did Miranda get the money to live on and send me to college, Greg?  Was she wealthy?  Did someone send it to her?  Miranda didn’t work, yet after she died, I found two bank accounts and thousands of dollars.  She sold some of her paintings when I was in high school, but they couldn’t have been worth that much.”

“Is that what you’ve been living on?”

She nodded.  “I’ve worked off and on, in nothing little jobs, but I didn’t make enough to pay the rent.  I’ve moved so often I’m down to five or six thousand.  I can’t afford to keep running, Greg.  One way or another, this has to end soon.” 

*****

Sometimes Neen wished they’d killed her the night of the raid and gotten it over with, because she felt like a dead woman.  What kind of life did she have, always looking over her shoulder, never making friends for fear of putting them in danger, and wondering what happened to the man she’d fallen in love with jogging around a posh neighborhood in Los Angeles?  That day in the cemetery, she’d just about given up hope of waking from this nightmare.  Greg had given her new hope.  He knew how to handle himself in a crisis, and he had access to information she could never have gotten on her own. 

And he gave her a reason to live.

After Greg turned off his laptop, Neen helped him carry in bucket after bucket of snow and dump it in the bathtub to melt.  The water had gone out with the power and who knew when it would come back on.  She wanted to flush the toilet and wash out her underwear, since they only had one change of clothing with them. 

Greg insisted on cooking dinner that night.  While he cooked, she washed their dirty underwear and socks and hung them over the shower rod.  Before bed tonight, she’d put them out by the fire to dry. 

By the time she cleaned up and came out to the main room, Greg had the table set with candles flickering.  It was growing dark outside, but Greg had lit candles and the fire in the fireplace blazed.  He’d created a romantic setting in the rustic little log cabin.

He pulled out her chair and smiled.  “Please sit down.  Dinner is nearly ready.”

“Do you need help?”

“Not tonight.  Tonight I’m waiting on you.”

It took her a few seconds to respond.  “Ooookay.”  She sat at the table and he spread the napkin on her lap. 

He brought a basket of fresh, hot biscuits to the table and then plates of stir-fried chicken and vegetables.  “Oh, Greg, this looks wonderful.”  She tasted it and closed her eyes to savor the taste.  “You’re a good cook.”

“My mother insisted all of us learn how to cook.”  He broke a biscuit open, slathered butter and jam on it, and handed it to her, and then fixed another one for himself.

As Neen ate, she stole glances at Greg.  He acted like a perfect gentleman tonight.  She couldn’t believe he’d cooked dinner for her. 

After dinner, over cups of fragrant peppermint tea, he gazed into her eyes and lifted her hand to kiss it.  They didn’t make love last night, but they would tonight.  They were holed up in a private little summer cabin in the middle of winter.  Aside from the man who’d rented them the cabin, nobody knew they were here.  The bad guys wouldn’t shoot at them tonight.

Greg leaned toward her and gave her a gentle kiss.  “While I clean up the dishes, I want you to go take off your clothes and wrap a towel around yourself.  Pin your hair up and out of the way, and bring a couple bottles of that lotion out with you.  Tonight, you’re getting a massage.”

She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this, but she could hardly wait to see what he’d do next.

While Greg piled the dirty dishes in the kitchen and turned down the bed, Neen took a candle and went into the bathroom.  They didn’t have any music or wine, but they’d make do with what they had.  All she needed was Greg.

Neen undressed and wrapped a big bath towel around herself, tucking the ends under her arms.  She wouldn’t be wearing it long.  She brushed her hair and pinned it up loosely on top of her head.  The woman in the mirror smiled softly.  Tonight, she’d live her dream.   

She found the bed turned down and candles flickering on the mantle, the coffee table, and the kitchen counter.  His eyes had darkened with longing, and she knew he wanted this as much as she did.  “You’re wearing too many clothes.  I like my masseur wearing as little as I am.”

He bowed slightly.  “Your every wish is my command.”  Tingles skittered over her skin and pooled in liquid heat inside her.  Without touching her, he’d made her body come alive. 

The bed was too far from the fire to be warm, so she pulled off the sheet and spread it on top of the sleeping bags on the floor in front of the fireplace.  He came out of the bathroom wearing a towel.  “I’ll do that, honey.”

“You don’t have to do everything, Greg.”

“Yes, I do.  Tonight I want to do everything for you.  I want to give you a night to remember.”

He pushed all the furniture back from the fireplace and tossed the sleeping bags and sheet on the couch.  Dragging the mattress from the bed over, he put it on the floor.  She should have thought of that herself.  Comfort and warmth.  Tossing the pillows down, she helped him spread the covers on top. 

He turned down the covers and smiled.  “My lady, I await your pleasure.”

She fanned her face, but it wasn’t from the odor this time.  This time she was hot, and the look in his eyes and the tent of his towel said he was, too. 

Neen put her gun beside her pillow.  If anyone interrupted them tonight, she’d shoot them without blinking an eye.  Because this was the night she’d been waiting for.  Everything she’d ever wanted in life was right here.

Awaiting her pleasure.

Chapter Six

Neen lay face down on the mattress in front of the fire, the towel draped loosely around her.  Greg kneeled over her and rubbed the lotion into his hands to warm it before touching her skin.  Pulling the towel off and draping it over her behind, he began massaging her back, using long, gentle strokes at first.  She sighed and he massaged the deeper muscles, working out the tension in her back and neck and shoulders.  Working down to her hips and tush, her warm skin came alive under his hands. He planted a kiss on each cheek and then moved up her back to her shoulders and arms and neck again. 

She was completely relaxed and pliant under his hands and, after a few minutes, he turned her onto her side.  The flickering firelight caught the smoky look in her green eyes and he knew he’d pleased her. 

She turned onto her back and whispered, “Do the front now.”

Her breasts were full and ripe and beautiful.  With a tender kiss on her lips, he began again, rubbing more lotion into her silky skin, from her shoulders and neck, moving down and around to her ribs.  “You forgot something,” she whispered.

“Did I?”  The gentle swell of her stomach and the indentation of her cute little belly button drew his attention, and then he worked lower, to her hips and thighs, leaving her breasts untouched.

He moved her legs apart and knelt between them, pushing his right knee against the hot, damp place at the bottom of her belly.  She pushed against his knee, rubbing against him, and he knew she couldn’t wait much longer.  “Please, Greg.  Please,” she begged.  “I don’t want to come without you.”

He threaded his fingers through her damp curls until he found the little nub.  “I want to watch you come.”

He worked his magic, and in seconds, her body shuddered and tears ran from the corners of her eyes into her hair.  “I’ve been waiting… so… long,” she whispered. 

“Open your eyes and look at me.”  He tried to hold himself back, because this was about her pleasure, and she would come again.  He was a long way from finished. 

When her spasms eased, he began his sensual massage again, this time from her belly button up to her breasts, working from the outside in without touching the hard nubs of her nipples.  He lifted her arms over her head and kissed the tender skin on the underside of her arms, nipped her earlobes, and worked his way down to her breasts and nipples, using his mouth instead of his hands this time.  One lick of her left nipple and she moaned, her bottom writhing against his knee. She was wet and hot and needy.  He drew her nipple into his mouth and she moaned again.  As he drew her other nipple into his mouth, she whispered, “Love me, Greg.  Please love me.”

Her soft words went straight to his heart, because he knew she meant more than sex.  Flinging his towel aside, he pushed her knees up and guided his hard shaft into her.  She cried out and he pulled back and pushed into her again and again and again, each stroke harder and deeper than the last.  Neen clutched his shoulders, gasping and crying, tightening around him, and he rode over the edge with her.  In her loving arms, buried deep inside her tight body, he found a piece of heaven he wasn’t likely to forget in this lifetime. 

He didn’t ask if he’d pleased her, because he knew he had.  The surge of tenderness for the woman in his arms brought an ache to his heart.  He should have found her sooner, should have protected her from Ruiz and his killers.  Through her own resourcefulness she’d lived through it, but she’d carry the scars inside her forever, the fear of what would happen if she didn’t keep running.  He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.  No matter what else happened, he had to get her through this in one piece. 

This woman meant everything to him.

*****

Neen lay spent and sated in Greg’s arms, a satisfied woman.  Greg was a magnificent lover, better than she’d ever dreamed any man could be.  She’d dreamed of this every night since the day they’d met, since before she knew he worked for the DEA.   

She pulled her head back to look at him.  “Please tell me I won’t have to wait three years for another massage like that.”

He grinned.  “Next time you can do me.”

She wanted to ‘do him’ all right.  Greg’s ‘next time’ would be tonight, and this time, she’d please him like he’d pleased her. 

And she did, massaging him as he’d massaged her, caressing his face and body, possessing him with her love.  After rubbing lotion into the strong muscles of his chest and shoulders, she asked him if he wanted to turn over, but he didn’t move.  Did he not want her to see the scar on his back from the stabbing? 

He shook his head.  “I can’t see you that way.  Besides, there’s something in the way.”

She looked down to see him fully aroused, thick and long and hard.  “Maybe I’d better take care of this first.”  She gazed into his eyes and ran her fingers lightly up and down his swollen shaft.  “I can’t believe you’re ready again so soon.  I thought—”

“Thought I couldn’t do it more than once a day?”

A smile tugged at her lips.  “I thought I couldn’t do it more than once a day.”

He grabbed her shoulders and brought her down nose to nose.  “Kiss me, woman.  Love me, honey.  Pretend this really is our honeymoon.”

She brushed her lips across his and then, in a wild tangle of arms and legs, they rolled on the mattress, writhing in passion, with his fingers inside her, rubbing while he kissed her.  When she tightened around his fingers, he pulled them out and pushed inside her.  “Yes, oh yes,” she whispered.  He pounded inside her, bringing them both to another mind-shattering climax.  She wanted to tell this wild, wonderful, funny man that she loved him, because she did, but she couldn’t tell him anything until this crisis with Julio ended. 

*****

Two hours later, Greg sat on the mattress in front of the fire. He leaned back against the couch, with Neen snuggled in his arms.  The lady had crawled into his heart three years ago and tonight sealed it for him.  He wanted to keep her in his heart forever.

He hated to spoil the mood with business, but curiosity nagged at him.  “Neen, did you have any problems with these men before your mother died?”

“No.  At first I thought my mother’s death triggered it.  Then I wondered if it had to do with me staying at Julio’s house after I buried Miranda.  But that didn’t make sense, because he’d invited me there.  I think something else most likely caused it.”  She twisted to face him.  “I starred in a musical, a program put on by the school, and—”

Greg knew his mouth hung open, but he couldn’t help it.  “Starred?”

“My major was music and the theater.  I play the piano, sing, dance—”

He nuzzled into her hair and then threw back his head and howled with laughter.  Every time Mom got a new foster kid, the first thing she did was see if they could sing, and if they couldn’t carry a tune, she tried to teach them anyway.  Singing was a big part of every family gathering.  Mom’s biggest disappointment in life was not having a kid with a decent voice. 

Neen smacked his arm.  “What’s so funny?”

“My mother sings, too.”

“What about you?”

“Only when Mom pushes me into it.  I can dance, though.  Well…”  He shrugged.  “I can get by.  Mia loves to dance, and until she found a good partner, she always managed to rope me into it.  Bo used to do it, but as soon as he injured his elbow, he used that as an excuse to push her off on me.”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Jazz, ballroom, anything to get her into the contests.  Mia has a whole wall of trophies.”  He rubbed his palms up and down her arms and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.  Now that the heat of passion had cooled, they were both getting chilled.

He kissed her shoulder.  “So, what happened after you starred in this musical?”

“The professor had invited entertainment editors from several newspapers, and the Tacoma Tribune did a big spread on the show.  They printed pictures and some rather glowing reviews.”

“You’re good, huh?”

She shrugged.  “Not that good.  I got the starring role because the girl who was supposed to do it came down with strep throat, and then her understudy had some academic issues – as in she studied the part and nothing else, and finals were coming up.  Since I was the only other one in the class who knew the part, they gave it to me.  It was the first time I’d ever starred in anything.  Mom sat right there in the front row.  I sang for her that night and got a standing ovation.  It was awesome.” 

“I hope you’ll sing for me some day.”

“Maybe I will, when this is over.”  She let out a shaky sigh.  “If it’s ever over,” she added in a whisper. 

*****

The hum of the refrigerator woke Greg at three in the morning.  The power had come back on.  He left Neen sleeping, plugged in his computer at the kitchen counter, and took his cell phone into the bathroom so he could talk without waking Neen.  He sat on the edge of the tub and called Dave. 

A very sleepy man answered, “Aw, Greg, give me a break.  It’s the middle of the damn night here.”

“Yeah, it is here, too, but we’ve been without power, so I’ve been out of touch.”

Dave cleared his throat.  “Does that mean you didn’t get my e-mail yesterday?”

“I didn’t get shit yesterday.  What’s happening?”

“Word on the street is that Ruiz and his men are pulling out all the stops.  They’re looking for a rusty pickup with Montana plates.”

“Aw, shit.”  He hadn’t counted on anyone tracking the truck, not this quickly. 

“Can you get to Topeka?”

“Hell, no.  I don’t want to drive that rust bucket that far, not with Ruiz looking for us.  Isn’t there a little airport in northwest Kansas?”

“There’s one in Goodland.  How close is that?”

“I don’t know,” said Greg.  “Maybe three hours?”

“I’ll meet you there at… say… eight this morning.  I’ll fly you into Ponca City and you can rent a car there.  It’s the safest time of day to be out and about.”

“I know.  Neen said the goons aren’t morning people.  Hold on a minute.”  Greg walked back to the other room and peered through the window.  Most of the snow had melted.  If he could coax the truck up the hill to the road, they should make it all right.  He went back to the bathroom.  “Eight o’clock sounds good.  Oh, Dave, could you bring me some clothes?  We had to leave everything behind.”

“What do I look like, your personal servant?  You can shop in Ponca City.”

“If we make it that far,” muttered Greg.  “Bring money.  Five thou oughta do it.”

Dave laughed.  “Yeah, sure.  I have maybe forty bucks on me, and three hundred backup money.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I was afraid you were gonna say that.  See you at eight.”  The line clicked and Greg disconnected.  He could always count on Dave.  They had been college roommates, both studying law enforcement with the hope of working together somewhere, but sometimes life took strange twists.  Dave ended up with the FBI and Greg signed on with the DEA.  And now they were teamed up on this case. 

Three in the morning and the night was over.  As soon as the water heater got going, he’d shower.  Neen could sleep until he had the coffee ready.  They’d leave at four, just in case.  If they had to fight the snow in that truck, it could take a whole lot longer than three hours to get to Goodland.

The socks Neen had hung on the fireplace screen were dry, but stiff.  So was the underwear.  All that money they’d spent on camping gear and that over-priced rusty pickup truck, and they’d have to leave it behind once they hooked up with Dave.  No wonder Neen ran through money so quickly.  How many times had she walked away from her clothes and her car?  How many times had she started over with only what she carried in that oversized purse? 

Greg built up the fire and made a pot of coffee.  He drank three cups before the water warmed enough to shower without freezing his ass off.  Neen looked so sweet with her hair spread over the pillow and a bare shoulder peeking out of the blanket, he had to fight the urge to get in there with her.  No time to play this morning.  He kissed her forehead and stroked her soft cheek.  “Come on, honey.  I know it’s early, but we have to leave in forty minutes.”

She groaned.  “Why?”

“Ruiz knows what we’re driving.  Dave is meeting us at an airport in Kansas at eight.  He’ll fly us to Oklahoma.”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes.  The blanket slid down, exposing her breasts.  He breathed deeply.  “Oh, honey, don’t do that or we’ll never get out of this cabin.”

Flopping back down on her pillow, she said, “Mmm ‘kay.” 

Greg smiled and pulled a warm, sleepy, completely naked woman to her feet and sent her to the bathroom.  “Breakfast in ten minutes,” he called.

*****

The truck didn’t want to start and it really didn’t want to run, but after a long warm up, the engine finally began to purr.  Greg breathed a sigh of relief.  They were at least seven or eight miles from the main road, and it had started to rain.  Not much chance of hitching a ride, especially at this hour of the morning.  Anyone in their right mind was still in bed.

Neen tidied up the cabin and made sandwiches to take along.  She piled the sleeping bags and most of the new camping gear by the door and Greg tossed it into the back of the truck. 

As she wistfully scanned the cabin and the floor by the fireplace, Greg knew what she was thinking.  They’d undoubtedly make love again, but neither of them would forget the tenderness and passion of their first time.  

Greg coaxed the old truck up the snowy lane to the main road.  He drove south and then west, away from the rising sun.  Neen looked worried, and he couldn’t blame her.  Since that day at the cemetery, Ruiz and his men had stepped up their attempts to kill her.  By helping her, Greg had put his own life on the line. 

He glanced at her face and knew it was worth it.  She was worth it.  After last night, he’d have a harder time separating the professional goals from his personal ones. 

Ruiz had taken advantage of Neen’s vulnerability while she grieved for her mother.  Why did he risk his drug operation by bringing her to his home?  Ruiz didn’t do things without a reason.  He’d grilled her to find out what she knew, only she didn’t know anything.  And that ‘accident’ that killed Miranda was no accident.  She was deliberately taken out of the picture, murdered.  His instincts told him Neen’s natural mother had been murdered, too, but he didn’t know how Ruiz fit into the picture.  Were the deaths of Gloria Summers and Miranda Jacobs connected? 

Other than her painting, Miranda hadn’t worked, so where did she get the money to live on?  It didn’t sound like she made enough selling those few paintings. Had she been blackmailing someone?  What did that tiny microdot hidden in Neen’s ring contain? 

The roads were clear and they were over an hour early, so Greg drove on past the airport and stopped in a little café a few miles down the road.  Minutes later, a kid with a big backpack walked in, a hitchhiker they’d passed about a mile down the road. 

Greg leaned close to Neen and asked, “What do you normally do with a car or truck when you have to leave it?”

She shrugged.  “Walk away.”

He knew what that meant.  The vehicle would sit there awhile, then get towed and sit in a lot somewhere until it was put up for auction.  By then it wouldn’t be worth spit.  And he didn’t want that rusty truck with the Montana plates sitting at the airport for someone to find and start tracking flight plans.  “What would you think about giving it away this time?”  He glanced at the kid at the counter and then at her.

A slow smile spread on her face.  “Well, he is going the other direction.”

“My thoughts exactly.”  Greg walked over and invited the kid to join them for breakfast.  He was about nineteen or so, a nice looking kid with a pleasant smile.  Greg introduced himself as Adam and told the kid Neen’s name was Eve.

“Adam and Eve?”  The kid laughed.  “Are you for real?”

Neen smiled.  “As real as it gets.  What’s your name?”

“Tommy Jansen.”

“What are you doing hitchhiking?  Didn’t your mother tell you it was dangerous?”

“Yeah, she’d be pissed if she knew, but my car broke down yesterday.  The transmission is trashed and I couldn’t afford to fix it.”

Neen shared a glance with Greg.  “That’s too bad.”

“Where are you headed?” asked Greg.

“Steamboat Springs.  My dad has a friend who owns a restaurant there.  He said he’d give me a job if I’d come right away.” 

“Are you a cook?” she asked.

“Yeah, my dad is a chef at the Skyline Room in Topeka.  He taught me.  He said I could work with him, but I wanted to see if I could make it on my own.  Someday I want to own my own restaurant.”

Neen smiled.  “That’s an ambitious goal.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Could you use a pickup?” asked Greg.  “It’s old and rusty and slow to start on cold mornings, but once it gets going, it purrs like a kitten.”

“How much?”

“Three hundred and forty dollars.”  The camping gear they’d left in the back was worth more than that.

“I don’t have that much with me.”

Greg leaned his hand up on the table, and then flopped it down.  “We don’t need the money today.  When you get settled in your new job, you can send the money to Dave Montgomery at the FBI office in Denver.”

“Sure, okay.  Are you FBI, too?”

“Nah, we were roommates in college.  I owe him the money and we’re flying out this morning.  If you don’t take the truck, it’ll just sit here and rust.  It’s not new and it’s not pretty, but it runs, and it should get you where you’re going.”

Neen told him about the window on the passenger side and the kid said, “No problem.  I know how to fix that.”

Tommy Jansen reminded Greg of one of the many foster kids that drifted in and out of the house when he was a kid.  Mom still took in stray kids, mostly runaways and throwaways.  “Tell you what, Tommy.  I’ll pay for breakfast if you’ll give us a ride to the airport.”

The kid grinned from ear to ear.  He looked tired.  Greg wondered how many miles Tommy had walked since his car died.   

Greg shared a glance with Neen.  They both knew Ruiz would find them at some point, but they had things to do first, like find out who Apple Gum and Cough Drop worked for.  And learn why Miranda Jacobs raised Neen as her own daughter after Gloria Summers died.  Miranda didn’t just take custody of Neen.  She also took Gloria’s identity.

The waitress served their breakfast and refilled their coffee cups.  After she left, Tommy said, “I thought about signing up with the Army, but my mom threw the biggest fit.  Dad said if I enlisted, I’d end up in a kitchen like he did, and I thought if I’m gonna cook, I’d rather do it in a restaurant.”

“What do you like to cook?” asked Neen.

Greg leaned back and listened to the kid’s animated descriptions of the dishes his father had taught him to make.  Neen brought out the best in everyone. 

*****

At the airport, Greg handed the truck title and Dave’s address to Tommy and shook his hand.  “Here you go.”  

“I’ll send the money as soon as I get paid.”

Greg shook his head.  “License plates and insurance first, then you can pay Dave.  He’ll wait his turn.”

The kid grinned.  “Sure, okay.  If you ever get to Steamboat Springs, look me up and I’ll cook you the best meal you’ve ever eaten.”

“We’ll do that.”  Neen handed Greg the tote bag and the bag with their sweats and followed him into the little terminal.  And Tommy drove away.

Ten minutes later, Dave’s plane touched down on the runway.  “Our ride is here,” said Greg.

Neen screwed up her face.  “We’re going to fly in that little bitty thing?  I thought we were going in a real plane.”

Greg stared at her for a long minute.  “Tell me you don’t get airsick.”

“Well… actually…”  Neen let her words trail off.  Miranda gave her flying lessons for her fourteenth birthday, and Neen was an expert pilot before she was old enough to drive.  While other kids spent sunny days playing sports, she was in the sky, dancing with the clouds. 

Dave had dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a big smile.  He and Greg slapped each other on the back, obviously glad to see each other.  Neen shook Dave’s hand.  “Thanks so much for coming to get us.”

“Have you ever flown in a small plane like this?”

“A time or two,” she replied.  “Would you mind if I sit in the front with you?”

“In the co-pilot’s seat?  Not at all.”

Greg draped his arm around Neen’s shoulders.  “She’s a little queasy about flying in a small plane.”

Neen winked at Dave.  “Yes, maybe you’d better make sure we have a sufficient supply of airsickness bags on board.”

“Ah, yes.  I see what you mean,” said Dave, and from the twinkle in his eyes, she knew he understood quite well.  She wouldn’t be the one to get sick.

Greg went inside to use the restroom and Dave asked Neen, “How long have you been flying?”

“Since I was big enough to reach the controls in the cockpit, but Greg—”

“Doesn’t know,” finished Dave.  He laughed.  “After everything he’s pulled on me over the years, I’ll gladly play along.”

*****

A half-hour later, they leveled off for a peaceful flight to Ponca City, Oklahoma, or that’s what Greg thought.  Neen sat in the front with Dave, wearing a headset so she could listen to the control tower.  Greg thought she’d get sick and barf all over the controls, but she didn’t seem queasy now. 

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  He was nearly asleep when Neen said, “What’s this thing for?” and the plane took a nosedive. 

Greg gasped, his heart racing.  Was she trying to get them killed?  And then he realized she was flying the plane.  Dave had a smile on his face, and Greg knew he’d been had. 

“Oh, my, what do I do now?”  She pulled the plane out of the dive and rolled it. 

Laughing, she leveled off and handed the controls back to Dave.  She called back to Greg.  “Gotcha!” 

“Knock it off, woman!”  Was there anything she couldn’t do? 

Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Isn’t it my turn to be the boss?”

“I think you’ve finally met your match, Greg, old boy.  What else can she do besides fly a plane, or should I ask?”

“Neen has all kinds of hidden talents,” he said mostly to himself.  “Wonderful, amazing, creative hidden talents.”  Especially in bed.

Neen asked Dave, “Is he always so surly in a plane, or is he being that way just for me?”

Greg answered, “Just for you, and I’ll take care of you when we get on the ground.”

“Whoo hoo, that sounds promising,” she purred.  “I can hardly wait.”   

“Smartass woman.”  He’d been with a lot of women over the years, but none quite like this one.  He never knew quite what to expect from Neen.

What should have been a relatively easy task – take control of the situation and lure the dirty agent into a trap – had turned into a complex situation with a sexy, resourceful, manipulating woman who didn’t take orders. 

This way was a whole lot more fun.

Chapter Seven

To Greg’s surprise, Dave let Neen fly the plane while he came to sit in the back.  As Dave settled in the seat, Greg said, “I thought you didn’t let anyone fly your plane.”

He shrugged.  “She’s a better pilot than me.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not saying much.”

Dave ignored his caustic remark.  “If you can find another woman like her, send her my way.  I like a woman with a little attitude.”

“My mother would call it piss and vinegar,” said Greg.  And she’d love Neen.  “What happened to that blonde you dated last summer?”

“I think she bleached her brain along with her hair.  She got into health food and yoga and all those healthy things.”

“Isn’t that good?”

Dave tapped his head.  “Not if that’s all your tiny little brain can hold.”  He waved his hand a little.  “Forget her.  Let’s talk about the case.  The police in Billings have the shooters at the motel in custody.  One was wanted on a Murder One charge in California and the other has a long criminal history.  They’re both out of the picture.”

“Good.”  Losing two men would be an inconvenience for Ruiz, and it would piss him off even more, as if he wasn’t already.  He’d undoubtedly send more men, and Greg knew they wouldn’t be any too careful about who got in their way. 

“The DEA agent you shot, Clinton, was released from the hospital, but a funny thing happened on the ride home.”

“Drive-by shooting?”

“No, he disappeared.  Never made it home.”

“So who checked him out?  Family?”

“No, his family is in Baltimore, and I don’t think they even knew he’d been shot.  A co-worker picked him up.  Phil Cramer.”

“Interesting.”  Greg’s former partner could be the other dirty agent.  On the other hand, Cramer might be doing a little undercover work on his own.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Dave, “but we don’t know anything for sure at this point.”

Greg wanted to believe in Cramer, wanted to trust all his former co-workers, but trusting didn’t come easy.  The night he was stabbed, he saw enough to know it was one of the DEA agents he’d worked with, but not enough to know which one planted that knife in his back.  It was a whisker away from making him permanently paralyzed.  He wanted to see the man who did that to him punished.  If the bastard didn’t die, he’d go to prison for life, but one way or another the man would pay with his life. 

Dave and his bosses worried about him working after his last job-related disaster.  Greg was concerned about it himself, but so far he was doing all right.  Intense rage at the man who stabbed him and guilt for letting Neen stay in the house that long drove him on.  It overpowered the fear of having another injury like the last one.  The doctors told him he’d never be able to function well enough to work in the field again, that he was lucky to have survived.  He worked through the pain to prove them wrong.  Now that he was whole and healthy again, he could help Dave put Ruiz and his hired killers out of business for good and get Neen out of harm’s way.

“Since things are coming to a head, I’m going to stay with you for a few days,” said Dave.

“Glad to hear it, Montgomery.  We’ll use your credit card to buy new clothes.”

“Aw, shit, I really walked into that one, didn’t I?  Did you forget to bring clothes on this little vacation trip?”

“Come on, Dave.  I told you we needed clothes.  We were lucky to get out of Montana with an extra pair of clean underwear.  If Neen hadn’t—”

Dave burst out laughing.  “Am I ever going to have stories to tell when this is over.  Clean underwear?”

Greg pointed to the cockpit.  “Go back to work and quit picking on me.”

“Don’t trust your woman to pilot the plane?”

Greg gave him a look and Dave returned to the cockpit.  Trust her?  Yes, of course he trusted her, but he never knew what to expect from her.  Having her around sure kept life interesting, though.  Especially last night.

Leaning his seat back, Greg snoozed off and on until the landing wheels thumped down, and then they were on the runway.  He’d flown with Dave before, but he’d never had a landing that smooth.  Glancing into the cockpit, he saw why.  Neen had landed the plane.  Hidden talents?  Oh, yeah.  Lots of them.

After the engines stopped, Greg heard Dave say, “Ditch the guy with the mop top and come away with me, sweetheart.  We’ll—”

“Keep your grubby hands off my woman,” Greg growled. 

Dave leaned over and gave Neen a kiss on the lips, and Greg felt like tearing him apart.  “I said—”

“You said hands,” said Dave.  “You didn’t say anything about lips.”

*****

Neen shook her head.  “Enough already.”  They acted like little boys fighting over the prize from a box of Cracker Jacks, but she didn’t mind the bickering as long as they focused on the job at hand.  To let down your guard when a man like Uncle Julio was looking for you could cost your life.

Shooting up the motel in Billings showed how much they wanted her dead.  Or maybe they wanted Greg dead before he could get his hands on whatever Julio wanted.  She had a good idea they were after the microdot.  It had to be.  In any case, since she’d hooked up with Greg, Julio’s men had gotten more aggressive.   

Greg didn’t trust anyone in the DEA, but he had complete confidence in Dave Montgomery.  She liked Dave.  He joked with Greg, but the two men seemed to be the best of friends.  Dave wouldn’t let Greg do anything foolish, and they’d both be watching her back. 

After those men shot at them at the hotel, she saw a side of Greg that worried her.  He put on a brave front, but she could almost smell his fear.  She would’ve thought a professional law enforcement officer would have it more together.  Maybe that was why he didn’t go back to the DEA. 

Dave rented a car and they checked into the hotel near the airport in Ponca City.  Neen’s quick shower that morning hadn’t done much more than wash the sleep out of her eyes.  While the men talked in Dave’s adjoining room, she took a long, hot, relaxing bath.  She needed a nap and so did Greg.  They hadn’t gotten over three or four hours sleep last night, because they’d made love three times before they finally slept.  Greg was right.  He wore her out.  Not that she was complaining.  It was the night she’d dreamed of, only better. 

After her bath, Neen wandered in to listen to Greg and Dave discuss the case and what they knew so far.  Neen stood behind Greg, her hands on his shoulders.  “Anything new I should know about?”

“Maybe,” said Dave.  “Did you know that the woman who raised you, Miranda Jacobs, got regular payments from your natural grandfather, Judge Alexander Summers?”

She stopped breathing for an instant.  “Well, that explains where the money came from, but why?  Was she blackmailing him?”  And why hadn’t Miranda told her that she had a grandfather?

“It has to be blackmail,” said Greg.  “She had something on the old man and used it to keep Neen and get money from him.”

“We don’t know that,” said Dave.

Greg came out of his chair.  “Don’t we?  Apple Gum and Cough Drop work for him, don’t they?”

Dave’s eyebrows knit.  “Who?”

“The men who have been following me and searching my apartments,” said Neen.  “One chews apple gum and the other sucks on menthol-eucalyptus cough drops.”

“They must be looking for the microdot,” said Greg.  “Aside from tearing up her apartments and cars, they haven’t bothered her.  And before you ask, I don’t think it has anything to do with Ruiz.”

Neen sank onto the side of the bed.  What if it wasn’t blackmail money? What if her grandfather paid Miranda to take her across the country, where he could never see her?  Didn’t she matter to him?  Didn’t he care about her?  Or was he ashamed of her?  “I don’t even know what my grandfather looks like.”

Dave handed her a picture of a stern-looking man with white hair and pale blue eyes.  “This is your grandfather.  I’ll take the microdot to the FBI office in Tulsa, and we’ll see what’s on it.”

Neen stared at the picture.  “He’s a judge? 

“With political ambitions,” said Dave.  “Or at least he had political ambitions at one time.  Wanted to be governor or senator.  He has to be close to seventy now.”

Neen looked up at Greg.  “Do you think he’d want to see me?”

Greg exchanged a long look with Dave before answering.  “I think we need to do a little more digging first, Neen.”

“No matter what he’s done or what he’s afraid of, he’s my grandfather, and I want to meet him.”

Greg sat beside her and took her hand.  “I understand that, honey, but he may not be what you expect.”

“What’s he like?”

“Some people describe him as a pompous ass, others as a highly respected judge, and others…”  Dave shook his head.  “Others have a deep hatred for the man.  They say he’s a highly opinionated bully.  In any case, he wields a lot of power in this part of the state.” 

She stared at Dave.  “Did he ever put Julio Ruiz in prison?”

“No, but he put Ramon Ruiz in prison, where another inmate killed him a month later.”

A gasp escaped her lips and she swallowed hard.  Did her grandfather have her father killed, or did he just lock him up?  “What did Ramon Ruiz do to deserve to go to prison, besides getting my mother pregnant?”

Greg squeezed her hand.  “The cops found a bag of marijuana in his pocket.  He denied it was his, claimed the cops planted it on him.” 

“Did they?”  

Dave shrugged.  “We’ll never know at this point, Neen.  That happened nearly twenty-six years ago.  He died before you were born.” 

Maybe her grandfather didn’t mean for Ramon to die, but whether he intended it or not, sentencing Ramon to prison caused his death.  She could never forgive him for that.  “I want to know who killed my mother.” She could have had a family to call her own, but someone decided her parents didn’t deserve to live.

“Did the judge have other children, or was my mother the only one?” 

“She was only legitimate one,” said Dave.  “He had a son, but the old man never claimed him.  He was a few years younger than your mother. He was gay, and he died of AIDS about three years ago.”

She sat quietly for a minute before speaking.  “Maybe my grandfather doesn’t want to claim me, either.  I’m not legitimate.  Maybe that’s why he didn’t want me around, why he paid someone to take me across the country.” 

“You’re not gay,” said Greg. 

She glanced at Greg.  “As if that should matter.  Or being illegitimate.” 

Neen walked into the other room, determined not to wait another day to face her grandfather.  She had questions about her family and he had the answers.  Her grandfather would tell her it was all a mistake; that he didn’t intend for Ramon to die.

After several minutes on the phone, she connected with a woman in Judge Alexander Summers’ office in Tulsa.  She asked to speak with the judge and the woman asked who was calling.  “Tell him it’s his granddaughter, Neen Summers.”

A very long time later, the woman came back on the line.  “He said to tell you he doesn’t have a granddaughter, and please don’t call again.”

Tears stung the backs of Neen’s eyes as she hung up the phone, but she willed herself not to cry.  She didn’t even know this man, so why did it hurt so much?  She sat on the bed, blinking back tears.  Her own grandfather had just brushed her off as if she didn’t exist, as if she was nothing more than a pesky fly on the wall.  Her only living relative didn’t even want to talk to her. 

She sat on the bed wallowing in self-pity, but not for long.  Anger churned up inside her, pushing aside the tears.  How dare her own grandfather deny her existence?  She was a living, breathing part of his family. She was his daughter’s child.  And now he didn’t want to claim her. 

“Damn it, Neen, what did you do?”

She looked up to see Greg standing in the doorway between the rooms, an angry look on his face, and she realized she’d made a huge mistake.  She should have waited until Dave and Greg said it was all right to call.  “I tried to call my grandfather.  I just wanted to meet him and talk to him, Greg.  That’s all.”

*****

Greg knew Neen was brittle with emotion and on the verge of tears.  He ran his hand down her hair to her shoulder. 

“He refused to speak to me.  He said he doesn’t have a granddaughter.”  She inhaled deeply and her jaw clenched.  “He’s going to be sorry he said that.”

Greg was angry, but if he yelled at her now, she’d probably self-destruct.  She put on a brave front, but she must be hurting like hell inside, like he had when he and Bo met their natural father. 

“Neen, you didn’t tell him where—”

Neen related the phone call to him and he realized that while she had given her name, she hadn’t given away her location.  He didn’t have a problem with that, but he gauged they’d kept her on the phone long enough to trace the call.  Greg stuffed his wallet in his back pocket, grabbed his coat, and poked his head into the other room.  “Dave, we gotta go.  If they traced Neen’s call to the judge—”

Dave tossed Greg the car keys.  “Go.”

Neen grabbed her bag and Greg grabbed his and they ran out the door.  In the motel parking lot, Greg heard the first siren, and then another one came from the other direction. 

Neen looked around.  “He called the cops on us?”  

Greg chuckled and unlocked the rental car.  “Wait until Dave flashes his ID at them.” 

“I’m sorry, Greg.  I shouldn’t have called the judge.”

No, she shouldn’t have called, but he understood why she had.  “Don’t worry about Dave.  He knows how to handle himself.”

Now the judge knew they were around, knew Neen had found out about him, and in minutes, he’d know the FBI was involved.  What would he do?   

As they drove away, she asked, “Is this judge conservative?”

“According to Dave, he’s ultra conservative, known for throwing someone in prison for the slightest infraction, especially gays and minorities.  He hates pornography and anything to do with drugs brings a maximum sentence.  Drunk drivers get the max, too, along with anyone who fights or gets busted at nightclubs or bars.”

“What about domestic violence?”

“Now that’s a different story.  Unless it’s blatant, like fighting on the front lawn or shooting, he usually dismisses the cases.  Women’s groups have been trying to get him off the bench for years, but the good ole boy network keeps him there.”

“I’ll get him off the bench or die trying,” she said firmly, and he knew she meant it.  It was the die trying part that worried him the most. 

“Uh, Neen?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you plan to do to the judge?”

The smile curled her lips slowly until it captured her whole face, and he knew they’d have an interesting time in Tulsa. 

She pointed to a store up ahead.  “Stop there, at the place with the cowboy on the sign.  We’re going to turn the macho dude cop into a macho dude cowboy, and I don’t want to hear any complaints out of the man who dressed in stinky clothes and hung out in a cemetery.”

He laughed softly.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Greg pulled in and they went shopping.  When they checking out, he realized he didn’t have a credit card that was safe to use or enough money to cover their purchases.  “Uh, Neen, I don’t—”

“No problem.”  She reached in her purse and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills.  “If it comes down to it, I figure my granddaddy the judge can come through with some money.  After all, it’s his fault I’ve run through so much in the past three years.”

After a stop at the discount store for underwear and socks and other essentials, Greg sat in the car in the parking lot and called Dave’s cell phone number.  “Hey, what’s happening?”

“Some very embarrassed cops just broke into my room and I have another car.  Find a place to stay in Tulsa and call me.  I’ll meet you there after I lose this tail.”

“The cops are following you?”

“No, it’s two guys.”  Dave described the men.

“That’s Cough Drop and Apple Gum,” said Greg.  “I think they’re harmless.”

“Think?”

“No weapons that I could see and they’re not any too bright.  We need to catch one, so if you’d like to bring them by the discount store out on—” 

“Catch one?”  Dave’s voice was filled with laughter.  “What are we supposed to do with them after we catch them?  We’re still in Ponca City, on Judge Summers’ home turf, and we’ve figured out those men work for the judge.  Come on, Greg, do we really want to get in trouble over this? It’s not like they’ve committed any federal crimes.”

“Never mind.”  Greg would take care of those two bozos later.  “I’ll call when we get settled in Tulsa.” 

*****

Neen curled up in the bed at the motel in Tulsa and tried to quiet her mind so she could get some rest.  Greg slept soundly beside her, but she couldn’t sleep.  She missed her mother now more than ever.  Miranda Jacobs was a good mother, kind and loving and protective.  She must have had a good reason for taking her friend’s baby.  Miranda had given Neen a happy childhood, but it was always just the two of them.  Growing up, she missed having siblings and cousins and grandparents. 

She didn’t understand why Judge Alexander Summers would let Miranda take his only grandchild.  And why didn’t he want to know her now?  Was he ashamed of her?  Dave said the judge put her father in prison.  Did he have him killed, too?  He wouldn’t have his own daughter killed, would he? 

What was the connection between the judge and Julio Ruiz? 

The man lying beside her rolled over and threw an arm over her, and she leaned back into his warm body.  What would she have done if she’d come here alone? 

Her eyes drifted closed and she slept, knowing everything would be all right as long as Greg stayed beside her.

*****

Greg woke with Neen sleeping peacefully in his arms.  He gently extricated himself and rolled over to look at the clock.  It was nine o’clock in the evening. 

Dave sat at the desk in his room, punching the keys on his laptop computer.  Greg pulled the door almost closed between the two rooms, so they didn’t wake Neen.  “Anything new?”

“I got a read on the microdot.  It’s a handwritten page from a file on Ramon Ruiz.”

“Neen said she had a locket that matched the ring, but she lost it years ago.  That necklace probably had another page.”

“Probably.”  Dave looked up and raised his eyebrows.  “I’ll bet the judge doesn’t know she lost it.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Greg’s mouth.  “No, probably not.  What’s on the page we have?”

“Records of payments to people inside and outside prison, people he hired to ‘take care’ of the kid who dared to love his daughter.  This page begins after the kid had been arrested.  >From what I’ve heard and the sentences he’s imposed over the years, the judge doesn’t much care for minorities, and Ramon Ruiz was born in Mexico.”

“Illegal?”

“No, he grew up in San Diego, Mexican father, Anglo mother.  Ramon met Gloria Summers at the University of Oklahoma.  They were both in the pre-med program, both excellent students.  They wanted to be doctors, but they didn’t live long enough.”

“Neen’s birth certificate said Ramon was born in 1950.”

“They were both born in ‘58.  He had no priors, not even a traffic ticket.”

“The drugs must have been planted,” said Greg.  “The judge didn’t want his daughter with a Mexican, so he had the kid taken out of the picture.”

“Maybe, but Gloria was already pregnant.”    

“He probably didn’t know that at the time.  Or maybe he did.”  Greg walked around, his hand on top of his head.  What should he tell Neen?  She already knew that the judge sent her father to prison.  He whipped around to face Dave, remembering a question Neen had asked him.  “When Gloria Summers went over the bridge, whose car was she driving?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It was foggy.  Neen thought someone might have been trying to kill Miranda Jacobs.”

Dave whistled.  “Are you sure she doesn’t work for the CIA?”

“At this point, nothing would surprise me about Neen.”

He chuckled.  “Give me a few minutes.”

“Find out where Gloria Summers is buried while you’re in there.  Neen needs to pay a visit.” 

Now Greg knew why the judge didn’t push for custody and why Gloria wanted Miranda to take her baby.  With the information on the microdot, Miranda could have sent the judge to prison with some of the people he’d sent there himself, a frightening predicament for the judge to be in.  He wouldn’t have lived more than a few days inside prison walls. 

“The old man traded his granddaughter for his freedom.”

“Looks that way.  Here’s the information you wanted.  The car was registered to Miranda Jacobs.”  Dave leaned on the desk.  “Greg, what if Miranda had the microdot before the accident?  What if she threatened to use it?  Identifying the car wouldn’t have been too much of a problem if they could see the plates, but identifying the woman driving would have been nearly impossible in the fog.”

“You think he killed the wrong woman?” 

“It’s possible, isn’t it?  The judge could have killed his own daughter.”

Dave froze and Greg turned to see Neen standing in the doorway between the rooms, her hair mussed with sleep and her green eyes wide with shock. 

“If he killed my mother, I’ll see him punished.  If I have to shoot him myself, I’ll do it.  He doesn’t deserve to live.”

Greg made a mental note to replace the bullets in her gun with blanks.  In her state of mind, she might just kill the old bastard.  Not that he didn’t deserve it, but killing a judge in this state would bring a death sentence. 

Chapter Eight

Cowboys and cowgirls packed the Boot Scootin’ Bar that night.  Dave sat at the bar nursing a beer and watching the door, and Greg knew there were at least two other agents nearby.  Coming to a bar wasn’t part of the original plan, but Neen had changed their plans.  She’d asked if it was safe to go out dancing, and after Greg and Dave talked it over, they decided it might be one way to draw the judge’s men out in the open, so they could question them. 

The judge might not want to claim his granddaughter, but he wouldn’t hurt her.  If he wanted her harmed, he would have done it years ago.  The only real danger was with Ruiz and his people.  Had the judge or one of his people tipped Ruiz off that they’d been in Ponca City?  Greg was sure that no one had followed them to Tulsa from Ponca City, although if there was a connection between the judge and Ruiz, the killers would get word soon enough.  He hoped to hell that Dave had enough backup tonight.

Neen removed her jacket and Greg stared at her along with every other man in the place.  She wore low-cut black jeans with black boots, a black leather vest fastened with a single button just under her breasts, and no bra.  The outfit left a wide band of bare skin between the vest and jeans, showing too much skin, including the indentation of her cute little belly button.  Her luscious breasts swelled above the vest.  “Damn it, Neen, I thought you wore a shirt under that thing.”

She winked and grinned.  “You thought wrong, cowboy.”

He glanced at Dave and fought the urge to throw Neen over his shoulder and carry her out of there like a cave man taking charge of his woman.   

Dave shook his hand.  Damn right she was hot.  Several men ogled her.  Two women gave him the eye, too, but he blamed Neen for making him wear tight jeans and a shirt with no sleeves. 

*****

Neen glanced at Greg.  She’d done a good job choosing his clothes.  The tight faded jeans cupped him front and back, and the white cowboy shirt hugged his wedge-shaped torso and exposed the well-developed muscles in his arms.  A black hat rolled on the sides perched on his curly blond head, giving him a cocky look.  He was so hot every woman in the place had her eyes on him.  

She sat at a table with Greg and listened to the band for a few minutes.  Their singer, a young woman with a raspy voice, coughed between songs and didn’t hit any of the high notes.  The band tried to fill in, but she was having a hard time of it, and the crowd wasn’t being very sympathetic. 

Neen danced with Greg, picking up the intricate steps he threw in.  She knew he was trying to confuse her, but in the second dance, she showed him a few things.  As soon as she realized that everyone was watching them, they returned to their table. 

Later, they found a quiet corner and danced again.  She started singing softly along with the band, a private concert for the man she loved, and he sang the responses in his deep baritone.  Someone handed her a microphone headset, and she shook her head.  Another time and she’d sing for the crowd, but not tonight.  They’d already drawn too much attention.  Besides, tonight her song was for Greg only.

Greg said, “I hope Ruiz and his goons don’t show up before Cough Drop and Apple Gum.”

“So do I.”  She cocked her head and caught his eye.  “I thought you told me you couldn’t sing.”

“I said Mom always pushes me into it.  You didn’t have to push.  You have a beautiful voice, Neen.”

Using her cowgirl drawl, she said, “So do you, cowboy, and you look so damn hot in that shirt you could have any woman in the place.”

He grinned that sexy, eyes-half-closed grin.  He knew how to move on the dance floor, and his voice blended so well with hers they could have been made for each other. 

She drank Diet Pepsi and watched the other dancers for a few minutes.  Dave caught her eye and pointed at the door. 

“Well, looks like we have company, Greg.  How about another dance?  I’ll snag one of those guys and you can have the other one.”

*****

Greg chuckled softly.  She was something else, sexy as hell, with a voice like an angel and a vixen all rolled together in one delightfully provocative package.  And now she wanted to play with Cough Drop and Apple Gum?  “Sure, why not?” 

As the song wound down, Neen and Greg walked to the dance floor.  The singer  sang, “Do you, do you, do you, do you wanna dance?”  Neen danced with Greg and Dave, and then she spun around toward the door and grabbed Apple Gum by the hand. 

The look of astonishment on Apple Gum’s face made Greg laugh.  He put his hand on Cough Drop’s shoulder. “How about joining us at the table?”  The man tried to move away, but Greg’s hand tightened and Cough Drop nodded. 

Neen was still dancing with Apple Gum when Dave wandered over, turned a chair around and straddled it.  He showed Cough Drop his ID and the man looked like he might piss in his pants.  “Talk to me,” said Dave.  “Who are you working for and why are you following the young lady?”

“I-I’m not—”

Greg’s hand rested on the man’s shoulder again.  One little squeeze in the right spot was all it took.  “Tell us who you work for, and you and your friend can walk out of here.”

“He’ll put me back in prison.”

“Who, Judge Summers?” asked Greg.

“You know?”

Greg nodded and Dave leaned forward.  “Do you want to cooperate, or do you want to be charged with stalking the pretty lady on the dance floor?” 

Cough Drop’s eyes shifted to the dance floor and back to Dave and Greg.  “Okay, I’ll go along.  Ben will, too.  We woulda done it sooner, but we didn’t know who to talk to.”

Dave stuffed his ID back in his pocket.  “So now you do.”   

Greg left Dave with Cough Drop and walked out to the dance floor.  After escorting Apple Gum to the table with Dave, he returned to finish out the dance with Neen.  They had what they needed, enough evidence to put the judge out of business for good.  Whether he claimed Neen as his granddaughter or not, the old man was finished as a judge. 

Time to get out of here before Ruiz’ men showed up.  Greg danced with Neen, their hips working as one, dipping and bumping in a sexy display that no doubt had every man in the room hard by now.  This wild side of Neen surprised him, but he loved it.  When she was on stage, she was really on. 

When the song ended, Greg said, “Let’s take the next dance back to the motel room, baby.”

A woman nearby said, “I’ll go with you, cowboy.”  He glanced over to see the blonde woman who’d given him the come-on earlier.

“You’d go with any man, Tammy,” another woman said, and the people around them laughed.

Back at the table, Greg grabbed their coats and nodded to Dave, who followed Neen and Greg outside.  Dave walked toward the other end of the parking lot. 

Neen whispered, “Greg, is something going on?”

“The judge knows we’re here or Cough Drop and Apple Gum wouldn’t have found you so easily tonight.”

“Wonderful.  I can’t wait to see what kind of trouble we can stir up tomorrow.”

He chuckled softly.  “Yeah, me, too.”

She reached for the car door and Greg grabbed her arm.  She stiffened.  “What’s wrong?”

“Maybe nothing.”  But his instincts and the greasy fingerprint on the door handle told him someone had been messing with the car.  “At least it’s just a rental this time.”

She groaned.  “My purse is in the trunk, Greg.  I can’t leave my purse behind.  All my papers and my gun and personal things are in there.” 

Drawing Neen back into the bushes at the back of the parking lot, Greg called Dave on his cell phone.  “Looks like someone tampered with the car.  Can you send someone to check it out?”

“Aw, not again.  It takes a whole team to clean up after you, Gregory.”

“Yeah, I know, but you love me anyway.”

“I’m on it now.”  The phone clicked off and Greg shoved it in his jacket pocket. 

“I’m not leaving here without my purse,” Neen announced.  “Maybe they just wired the doors or something.”  She held out her hand.  “Give me the keys.  Maybe I can unlock the trunk without a big bang.”

“Are you willing to risk that?”

“Greg, my life is in that purse.”

“And clean underwear,” he muttered as he eased himself around through the bushes.  The woman was crazy and he must be, too, to risk his life for a damn pair of clean underwear.  “Stay here and if anything happens, and I mean anything, I want you to run like hell.  Got it?”

“Got it.”

Using his pen flashlight, Greg lay on the ground beside the car.  He found the wires strung from the door handles to the hood.  Nothing in the back that he could see, but it was still risky as hell to even touch the damn car now.  Better to wait for the bomb experts. 

A car crept by on the street and Greg spotted the semi-automatic sticking out the window.  No, better not to wait.  After the car moved down the street, Greg unlocked the trunk, and tossed Neen’s bag to her.  To his surprise, his was in there, too.  He grabbed it, left the trunk lid up, and ran into the bushes, where he and Neen crouched, waiting for the bullets to start flying.  And he knew damn well they would fly.  That wasn’t a toy gun he saw in the window of that car.

His phone rang and he grabbed it.  Dave said, “On their way.  Anything I can do?”

“Yeah, we’ve got two shooters in a black Mustang out front.  Could you run a little interference so we can get the hell out of Dodge?”

“Got it,” said Dave, and the phone went dead. 

Greg heard tires squealing around the corner and knew Dave had gone after the driver of the car, but his passenger, the one with the gun, had gotten out.  Neen started to stand and he pulled her down, his hand over her mouth.  She stilled.  His eyes scanned the parking lot and surrounding area and he spotted the shooter crouched behind a car at the front of the parking lot.  The shooter hadn’t spotted them yet.  Greg had to get rid of him before someone came out of the club and got caught in the crossfire.  The club overflowed with people tonight, and if anyone touched that car, that bomb could go off and kill them. 

He picked up a rock and lobbed it onto a car near the shooter, and the idiot actually fired at the car.  Two people coming out the door of the club at that moment screamed and ran back inside, and the shooter took off running. 

“Let’s go,” said Neen.

Greg shook his head.  He wanted to run as much as she did, maybe more, but they couldn’t leave here now.  “We have to wait for the bomb experts, honey.” 

He opened his cell phone and punched in Dave’s number.  Dave didn’t answer.  “Damn, I hope he didn’t do anything stupid.”

Seconds later Greg’s phone rang.  “Was that you?” asked Dave.

“Yeah, where were you?”

“I was kinda busy.  We got the driver.  Looks like they were Ruiz’ people this time.”

“Shit!  I thought we had another day.”

“I’m having a car brought to the alley behind the club.  Should be there any time now.  Old gray Crown Vic with a new engine.  Take care of it, buddy.  If you lose this one, it comes out of my pocket.  And Greg?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay alive, buddy.” 

Ten minutes later, with the bomb squad checking out the rental car, Greg and Neen settled in the Crown Victoria and drove away.  Greg wondered if Dave had left him anything of interest.  “Neen, would you check the glove compartment and see if—”

She pulled out a bank bag and unzipped it.  “Whoo hoo, will you look at this!  There must be at least five thousand in here, maybe more.”

“I have a feeling we’ll need it before this is over.  Will it fit in your purse?”

“I’ll make it fit.  So where do we go from here?  Back to Ponca City?”

“I thought we’d go south, to Texas.  We’re already dressed for it.”

“Kind of.  When we stop, I’m putting my T-shirt on.  There’s one for you in your bag.”

What would he do without her?  He lifted her hand to his lips and prayed he’d never have to find out. 

Neen sighed.  “I still didn’t get to see my grandfather.”

“Neen, honey, he killed your parents, or at least one of them.  It’s still up in the air who killed Gloria, but we have proof that he had Ramon killed.  Cough Drop and Apple Gum admitted that the judge sent them to find the microdot.” 

She stared straight ahead at the lights as they passed through Tulsa and onto the freeway.  “I really screwed things up, didn’t I?”

“You did what you thought was right, but from now on—”

She waved her hand.  “I know, I know.  You’re the boss.”

“I’m the professional here, and I know what I’m doing.  Trust me to do the right thing, Neen.”

She reached over and ran her hand over his thigh.  “I do trust you, Greg.”  She spoke the words so softly he barely heard her.  Was she saying she trusted him with her love? 

A slow smile took possession of his face.  When this ended, he’d take her home to his family.  He glanced at her beautiful face.  Oh, yeah, he had to hold onto this woman with both hands.  God, how she could sing.  He could listen to her forever.

“Can I sue him?” she asked.

“Sue who?  Your grandfather?”

“Yes.  He deprived me of my family.”

“Sue him for how much?”

“I don’t know.  What’s he worth?”

“I have no idea.”  The question had never come up.  When the old man died, she could claim his estate, depending on how he had things set up, but she’d have to prove she was related to him. 

“I want him to know what it feels like to lose something.”

“Neen, your mother was his daughter.  Don’t you think he suffered when she died?”

“I don’t know.”  She lowered her head.  “Why does this have to be so hard?  Why couldn’t he just say something like, ‘Neen, I’m so glad to meet you at last,’ or something gracious, instead of denying my existence?”

“It’s hard to deny.  His wife’s name was Neen, and the autopsy report on your mother states that she was a nursing mother at the time of her death.”

“I was named after my grandmother?  I didn’t know that, but it doesn’t make any difference as far as he’s concerned.  He killed and destroyed lives, and I want him humiliated and punished.”

They rode along quietly for a few minutes before Greg glanced in the rearview mirror and spotted a car coming up fast behind them.  He prayed it wasn’t another shooter, but instinct told him it was.  “Neen, get down on the floor and stay there.  Now.  Put my gun on the seat.  Hurry.”

For once she did as she was told.  He handed her his cell phone as the speeding car ran up behind him.  “Call 911.  We’re southbound on I-75 about 10 miles north of Okmulgee.”

Bullets pinged into the back of the car as Neen talked with the 911 operator and Greg made several evasive moves, waiting for his chance to shoot back.  He didn’t want to fire wildly and risk hitting an innocent person in another car. 

The back window shattered and a tire went flat, and still Greg did his best to keep them alive.  

The shooter’s car pulled up beside them and Greg stood on the brakes.  He felt the sting of a bullet in his shoulder as he fired one shot at the shooter and one at the driver.  The other car veered away and flipped over in the median strip. 

Greg pulled off the road and stopped.  Blood ran down his left arm, soaking the sleeve of his coat.  Thank God it hadn’t hit anything vital, like his spinal cord.

“Neen, are you okay?”

“Shaky, but okay.  What about you?”

“I got hit in the shoulder.  Do you have something I can use to stop the bleeding?”

“Oh, Greg.  They shot you?”  She handed him something white and soft and he reached inside his jacket to press it on the wound.  “How bad is it?”

“It’s nothing compared to what Dave will do to me for ruining his car.”

“Dammit, Greg, it’s not funny.”

No, it definitely wasn’t funny.  He heard sirens behind him.  “With any luck, those people don’t work for the judge.”

“If they do, I’ll shoot them,” said Neen.  “What’s Dave’s number?”

He told her and she made a quick call.  Blue lights flashed around them, and traffic on their side of the highway had stopped completely.  Paramedics ran for the flipped car and Greg’s shoulder throbbed like a bad toothache.  He should get out of the car, but he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.

Finally, a cop strolled slowly toward their car, gun drawn.  He stood back and pointed his gun at Greg.  “Get out of the car, hands up.”

Neen yelled, “He’s been shot, you idiot.  Those people shot at us.”

“Get out of the car.  Now,” the cop repeated.

Greg couldn’t let go of his shoulder.  “If you’ll open the door, I’ll get out.  Neen, honey, would you unfasten my seatbelt?”

She did as he asked and the cop opened the door.

Another cop walked up to Neen’s side, gun drawn.  “Don’t you dare point that damn thing at me,” she snarled.  “I did nothing wrong.”

“Don’t argue with them, Neen.  They’re just doing their job.  Move slowly and do what they say.”  He got out of the car, still holding the white cloth against his shoulder, and leaned back against the car.   

“Get one of those paramedics over here,” Neen yelled.  “Can’t you see he’s been shot?”

“I’m all right, Neen.”  Greg glanced at the car resting upside down in the median strip.  The paramedics were working on one of the men. 

One of the cops motioned to the paramedics and one ran over to take care of Greg’s wound.  The other paramedic stayed in the median. 

While the paramedic worked on Greg, Neen stood with her hands on the roof of the car with an officer keeping an eye on her.  She looked like she’d explode any minute.  Thank God she hadn’t been hit. 

Where was Dave?  What took him so long?

An ambulance left, sirens blaring, followed by one of the herd of police cars that had responded.  Greg should be in the hospital right now, getting his shoulder attended to. 

And still they waited.

Minutes later, a helicopter landed on the road in front of them and two men got out.  Both wore jackets that identified them as FBI.  One man had a familiar face. 

Greg had never been so glad to see his friend.  “Hey, Dave.  Glad you could make it.”

“Is this the best you could do?  I thought you’d blow up another car or something.”

“Another car?”

“The one at the bar went kaboom.”

“Aw, shit.”  He’d hoped they would have been able to disarm the bomb.  “Anyone hurt?”

“No, but the bomb destroyed several cars and damaged the outside of the building.”

Dave showed his ID to the cop and spoke with him for several minutes before Greg and Neen were allowed to leave.  The man with Dave helped Greg to the helicopter.  Neen followed with her purse and Greg’s bag, including the gun Greg had used on the men in the other car.  The cops had confiscated it along with Neen’s gun, but they were handed over to Dave.  

Greg watched Dave walk with the officers back to the body lying in the median strip.  The other man had been taken away in the ambulance.  How did Ruiz’ people find them so quickly?  Had someone in Tulsa tipped them off?  A drug-hating judge wouldn’t have anything to do with a man like Julio Ruiz, but someone on his staff might have tipped off Ruiz. 

Dave spoke with the officer in charge again and shook his hand.  A minute later, he jumped in the helicopter and they took off. 

Greg leaned his head back.  “Somebody doesn’t like me.”

“I noticed,” Dave replied. 

“Sorry about the car.”

“I’ll add it to the list.”

“What list?”

“Of the things you owe me.”  Dave glanced at Neen, who sat with the pilot.  “I don’t want one like her.  I want the original model.”

“Like hell.”  Greg glared at his friend.  “I don’t owe you that much.”

Dave sighed deeply.  “Too bad.  That is one hot babe.  Too bad I didn’t find her first.  You wouldn’t have a chance.”

Dave was teasing, kind of.  Greg saw the admiration in his eyes, appreciation for not just the wrapping, but the entire package.  If Greg took another knife or bullet, Dave wouldn’t hesitate to step in to take his place with Neen, but he wouldn’t try to steal her away.  They’d had that discussion their first year in college, when Dave’s girlfriend propositioned Greg.  After Dave dumped her, Greg told him what happened.  Their agreement not to date the same women held fast now, as it had then.  

His shoulder burned like hell.  For the first time, he looked at the soft cloth he held over his bloody wound.  Dave glanced at it and howled with laughter.  “Well, there goes your clean underwear.”

“Smartass,” muttered Greg.  He tucked the BVD label under the material so no one else would know what he’d used to stop the bleeding. 

Chapter Nine

The men made Neen sit in the co-pilot’s seat in the helicopter and Greg in the back, but when they reached the hospital, she couldn’t stay back.  She sat by Greg’s side, touching him, trying to ease his pain.  She’d come so close to losing him.  If not for his skill behind the wheel and with a gun, they’d both be dead.  The next time, the outcome might be different.  He had a family, people who loved him, people who would hate her for putting his life in danger like this.  It was her fault that Julio’s men had found them.  Her anger at the judge had taken away caution.   

Dave stood by Greg’s bed and shook his head.  “I’m surprised you only took one bullet.  Did you see the car?  There must be at least fifty holes in it.”

Greg tried to shrug and moaned.  “Remind me not to do that again.”

Neen looked up.  “Dave, what happened to the man they took away in the ambulance?”

“He didn’t make it.  How many shots did you fire, Gregory?”

“Two,” said Greg.  Neen couldn’t remember him firing any more, but at a time like that, who had time to count?  The ping of the bullets hitting their car sounded like popcorn in a frying pan. 

“Funny, there are three empty chambers in the gun.”

“Then why did you ask?” snapped Greg.

“Ooh, he’s a little testy tonight.”

“Bug off, Montgomery.”

Neen didn’t say anything, but these two sounded more like boys comparing how many times they’d swung at the baseball than two professional law enforcement officers comparing how many shots it took to kill two men.  Dave’s teasing took Greg’s mind off the pain in his shoulder, and she was glad to have him there.  She thought about Greg’s last injury and wondered how much he’d suffered.  Was his family with him then? 

The doctor and nurses pushed Neen and Dave out of the way so they could work on their patient.

After Neen retreated to the waiting room with Dave, he said, “There’s an exit wound, and the bullet didn’t hit anything vital.  I know it’s painful, but he’ll be back to his ornery self in no time.”

“He could have been killed.”

Dave hugged her.  “He’s well trained and I’ve never seen anyone with better instincts.  He saw the other car coming up behind him and knew exactly what to do.  Besides, it would take more than two men to stop Greg.”

After an impossibly long stay in the emergency room, Dave drove Greg and Neen to a rundown farmhouse outside town.  “It’s the best I could do on short notice.”

“This is fine, Dave,” said Neen.  “We won’t be here long anyway.”  She worried about them releasing Greg from the hospital so soon, and she worried about infection and pain.  How long did they have before Julio sent more men to kill them?  And he would.  Greg had killed two of his men tonight, and the two in Montana wouldn’t be free anytime soon.  Dave had captured another one outside the bar.  She’d almost forgotten that one.  How many more men could Julio spare?   

“We have two men in the barn,” said Dave.  “They’ll take turns keeping an eye out and try to give you some privacy at the same time.  If you need them, punch 111 on any phone in the house, and they’ll be here.”

Greg settled in the recliner in the living room, zonked from the pain shot the doctor had given him, while Neen inspected the house.  It was small, with a living room that stretched from front to back on the left side.  Stairs divided the house down the middle.  The kitchen was in the back on the right, with a dining area in the front.  A laundry and half-bath were tucked behind the stairs in the back, beside the basement steps.  The front door led to a porch with a swing, and the back door off the kitchen led to a little screened porch and a path to the barn on the right.  An old Chevy was parked by the back door, keys on a hook inside the kitchen door.  For them, she assumed.  Or maybe it belonged to the men in the barn.

“Everything look okay?”  Greg’s sleepy voice carried to the kitchen, where she looked through cabinets and checked out the food supply.   

Neen walked back to the living room.  “Looks fine.  The doors and windows are all locked, and there’s a car out back.  Is it for us?”

“Yeah, but we’re not going anywhere for a day or two.”

“I know.  Let’s go upstairs and find the bedroom.  You need to rest.” 

He stood and draped his right arm around her.  “I lost my only pair of clean underwear.”

She smiled.  “I guess you’ll have to go naked, but that’s all right.  I’ll be around to scratch any itches or... whatever.”

“Mmm, whatever sounds nice, but—”

“But not tonight,” she finished for him.  “Tonight you’ll sleep.” 

Maybe they’d both sleep, but she had her doubts.  Her body sagged with fatigue, but her mind still churned.  How did Julio’s men find them in Tulsa?  Did the judge tip them off, or was there another dirty agent working with Dave?  Would her grandfather allow someone to shoot and kill her?  Refusing to accept her as his granddaughter was one thing.  She couldn’t believe he’d set her up to be killed.

Neen found the clothes they’d left behind at the motel in the bedroom. 

“Hey, look at that,” said Greg.  “Would you help me with my boots, honey?”

She pulled off his boots and clothes, and tucked him in bed.  He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  She felt an immense sense of gratitude mixed with guilt as she gazed at him.  If she hadn’t made that call to the judge, and if they hadn’t gone out dancing, Greg wouldn’t have been shot tonight. 

Need stood at the window, gazing out at the unplowed fields, thinking about her life.  Miranda Jacobs gave her anything she ever really wanted – lessons in dance, voice, and piano.  She learned to fly, lived in a nice home, and had all the clothes she could ever want, her own television and telephone and toys, and a car on her sixteenth birthday.  Neen had only to ask.  When they spoke about college, Mom said to apply wherever she wanted to go, that money wasn’t an issue.  Now she knew her grandfather had paid for it all. 

Did Miranda take her to keep her from her grandfather?  Or was Gloria’s baby just a tool Miranda used to extort money from the judge? 

For the first time in her life, Neen questioned Mom’s love.  These days she questioned everything.  She glanced at the bed, at the handsome, virile man with his curly head on the pillow.  No, not everything.  She didn’t question Greg’s devotion.  He’d looked for her for nearly three years, hung out in a freezing cemetery, taken a knife in the back and a bullet in the shoulder.  For her.  A wave of love brought tears to her eyes.  He hadn’t said the words, but she knew he loved her.  When they danced together in the club, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. 

*****

The next morning, Neen made breakfast for Greg and the two agents in the barn.  The older man, Kowalski, had a face that looked like he’d been punched a few too many times.  Stipes had a buff body like Greg.  The agents both ate like they were starving.  “Doesn’t anyone feed you guys?” she asked.

Stipes laughed.  “Fast food and bad coffee is about all you get on stakeouts.  This is a luxury.”

“Sure is.”  Kowalski shoved in another big bite. 

“There’s enough food in this house to feed an army.  You don’t have to eat fast food while we’re here.”  She didn’t mind cooking.  It kept her mind off scary things, like bullets sounding like cooking popcorn and exploding cars.

Dave showed up as Neen cleared off the table.  “Aw, did I miss breakfast?”

Greg leaned back and grinned.  “I ate your share.”

“The pancakes and sausage are gone,” said Neen, “but—”

Dave glared at Greg.  “Pancakes?  She fed you pancakes?”

“Go find your own woman, Montgomery.”

Neen leaned back against the counter and shook her head.  If they had been kids, she would have swatted them both on the behind.  “Do you want breakfast, Dave?  French toast okay?”  She’d used the last of the pancake mix.

“Sounds wonderful,” he said, helping himself to a cup of coffee. 

Stipes and Kowalski returned to the barn, and Dave sat at the table with Greg, discussing Ruiz.  Neen listened with half an ear as she cooked.  She knew Julio ran the biggest drug network in this part of the world, with tendrils reaching out in all directions.  Why would he waste so much time and effort coming after her?  What had she done to deserve to die?

Dave finished eating and she had the dishes nearly done when she picked up on their conversation again.  This time they talked about Miranda Jacobs. 

Dave said, “There’s no doubt she blackmailed the judge with the microdot.”

Neen broke into their conversation.  “Miranda worked in the judge’s office?”

“Apparently the job was a favor to Gloria,” said Dave.  “The judge doted on his daughter.  He gave her anything she wanted.”

“Everything except the man she loved.  He took the most important thing away from her, and then he had her killed.”

Dave shook his head.  “He may have had Ramon killed, but he didn’t kill Gloria.  The judge was in Oklahoma City that week.  When they told him Gloria was found dead, he broke down in the middle of an important political meeting.  He was so crushed by her death, he had to be helped from the room.  People with him that night said it came as a complete shock.”

“Could he have ordered Miranda’s death?”

“None of the evidence points that way, Neen,” said Greg.  “And we’re starting to question whether he had Ramon killed.  The handwriting in that file may not be your grandfather’s.  We’re having a handwriting expert look at it now.”

*****

Greg didn’t tell Neen he’d had an expert analyze the handwriting in a letter he’d pulled from her purse, one Miranda had written to her at college.  He’d promised not to keep anything from her, but how could he tell her the woman who raised her, the one she knew as Mom, might have been involved in more than blackmail? 

Dave cocked his head and stared at Neen.  “You said Miranda didn’t work when you were growing up?”

“That’s right.”

“What did she do with her time?  Did she have a hobby, like non-stop shopping or something?”

“She did things with me after school.  We took flying lessons together, and she drove me to all my music lessons.  While I was at school, she painted.  We had a daylight basement and she had it set up as a studio.”

“Do you paint, too?” asked Greg.

“No, I don’t paint.  I tried when I was a kid, but I have no talent whatsoever.  Mom did, though.  She was good.” 

Neen’s smile left.  Had she remembered something?  “What is it, Neen?”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the table with Dave and Greg.  “I saw a painting at Julio’s house that looked familiar, like something Miranda might have painted.  She had a distinctive style.  That’s one reason I thought he might be related to me.  He knew so many things about Mom – I mean Miranda – that it seemed he knew her well.”

“What things?” asked Dave.

“She had a mole on her right shoulder that only showed when she wore an off-the-shoulder outfit, she hated mornings, she liked her coffee with cream, and she loved the opera.  She used to play opera music while she painted.”

“They knew each other,” said Greg. 

“I assume so.”  Neen leveled her gaze at Greg.  “While you’re investigating her, I want you to remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Dave.

“Whatever else she did, she was a good mother.”  And with those words, Neen left the room, wiping her eyes. 

*****

As soon as Dave left, Greg called Bo.  He hadn’t spoken with anyone in his family since the day he’d shot Clinton. 

“Hey, big brother.”

“Greg, Mom’s worried sick about you.  What’s happening?”

“Well, let’s see.  The Jeep is at a motel in Billings if you have someone loose who wants to go get it.  We had to leave in a hurry.”

“Skeeter will do it.  He likes road trips.”

Skeeter was a good choice, since he knew everything there was to know about explosives.  “Have him check it out before he touches it.  The car I drove in Tulsa created a big bang.”

“Uh… I think we’d better keep that from Mom.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Greg’s mouth.  “Good idea.  Don’t tell her I took a bullet, either.” 

“Aw, Greg, not again!  How bad is it?”

“Superficial shoulder wound.  It went all the way through.  I’ll be all right.”

“What does the other guy look like?”

“Two other guys, both dead, but it’s a long way from over.  Any news there?”

“Cramer said he has a present for you.  Said he’s keeping it on ice until you get back.”

“Did he call or come by?”

“Came by.  Said he’d be in touch.”

Cramer had a cabin on Harstene Island, and he probably had Clinton stashed there.  Nobody in the agency knew about the cabin but Greg, or at least that’s what Cramer told him.  What else did he have waiting there?  Greg’s gut told him there’d been something going on with Cramer for years, but he could never quite put his finger on it.  Cramer had always been there for him as a partner, yet something seemed a little off.  Was he working with Ruiz, or was it something else?

“If he comes by again, tell him you haven’t heard from me.”

“Sure, okay.  Is he the one?”

“Hell, I don’t know.”  But he was damn sure going to find out before he walked up to that cabin door.

*****

Dave came in at ten the next morning with a dress bag.  “Greg said you might like to pay a visit to your mother’s grave while you’re in town.”

Neen glanced at Greg, sprawled out half asleep in the recliner.  “Yes, I would.”

Dave handed her the bag.  “For your visit to the cemetery.  I have flowers in the car.  Pink roses.  I hope that’s all right.”

“Perfect, thank you.”  She walked to the stairs and motioned with her head at Greg.  “Who’s going to baby-sit with you know who?”

Greg growled.  “I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

Ignoring Greg, Dave said, “Kowalski has the afternoon shift.” 

Greg fussed at Dave while Neen walked upstairs to change.  Dave had brought her a conservative black dress and shoes, and a long black raincoat.  She changed quickly, pinning her hair in a knot at the back of her head.  She heard the men arguing as she walked downstairs.  Dave’s voice wasn’t loud enough for Neen to hear, but Greg’s was.  “No, you’re not taking her into his courtroom.  I don’t give a shit what case he’s trying, I don’t want her anywhere near that bastard.”

She walked into the room and the conversation stopped.

Dave glanced at her purse.  “Neen, leave your purse here.”

“I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“I know, but there’s security and a metal detector just inside the courthouse and you don’t have a badge to go with that gun.  Leave it here this time.”

She dropped her purse on the floor behind Greg’s chair.  “I’m going to meet my grandfather?”

“We thought we’d see what shakes out if you make a visit.  Are you up for that?”

“Yes, of course.  Does he know what I look like?”

“The judge has pictures of you all over his house, including the newspaper clippings from the show you did in college.  And the dress you’re wearing is almost identical to the one his wife wore in a family portrait the year before she died.  He’ll know it’s you.”

So the judge did know about her.  Maybe he cared after all.  If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked Miranda for those pictures, and that was the only way he could have gotten them. 

She put a few things in her coat pocket, kissed Greg, who grumbled, and walked out the door with Dave. 

Greg yelled, “If you let anything happen to her, I’ll wring your ugly neck.”

Dave gave him a little salute and pulled the door closed.

“The cemetery is on the way.”  Dave strapped himself in the car and glanced at Neen.  “I thought we’d pay a quick visit there first and then go to the courtroom.”  He started the engine.  “Unless you’d rather wait for Greg.”

“No, that’s all right.”  She could always take Greg back with her, if he wanted to go.  If Julio didn’t kill them first. 

She watched the scenery as they drove through the suburbs and then into the core of the city.  The Summers family had a cluster of gravestones right in the middle of the old cemetery.  One stone read Gloria Alexandra Summers, with Beloved Daughter below the name.  The beautiful pink marble stone had an angel carved on each side of the name. 

Neen glanced at Dave.  “Was this for show, or did he love her that much?”

“Oh, I have no doubt that he loved her.  If anything, he loved her too much.  After his wife died, Gloria served as his hostess and his escort to political functions.  He proudly showed her off to everyone who mattered to him.”

Neen knelt before the stone and arranged the roses for the mother she’d never had a chance to know.  She put her hand on the front of the stone, outlining the letters of the name as she’d done for another woman just days ago.  Gloria Alexandra Summers.  Neen was too young to know what she’d lost when this mother died.  Now she knew, and it left an aching pain in her heart.  What would it have been like to grow up with Gloria and Ramon, to have two parents and grandparents?  A whole family to love.

Dave reached for her hand and helped her up. 

“Thanks for bringing me here, Dave.”

“You’re welcome.”  He escorted her back to the car.  Someday she’d come back and spend more time here, with the people in the Summers family who had come and gone before her.  For today, it was enough to know where her mother rested. 

“Where is Ramon buried?”

“I don’t know.”

She wondered if there was anyone left of her father’s family.  When this nightmare ended, she’d look for them, but Ruiz was such a common name, how would she ever find them?

*****

The courtroom was an imposing place.  How frightening it must be for a defendant to stand in front of a judge who sat up high and looked down at him, passing sentence as if he were God Almighty. 

The dignified man who sat in the place of honor had white hair and pale blue eyes.  It was the man in the picture Dave had shown her.  Her grandfather, Judge Alexander Summers.  Neen couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

The judge looked down on the defendant, a dark-skinned man not more than twenty years old, with a cold eye.  Had he looked at Ramon that way?  Whether this young man committed the crime or not, she had a feeling he’d be found guilty in this courtroom. 

A jury sat on the side of the room, looking from the judge to the attorneys and defendant and back to the judge. 

Neen sat with Dave on the defendant’s side, behind a woman who kept wiping her eyes.  The boy’s mother?  Neen slipped her coat off and Dave folded it and put it on the seat beside him. 

Before she sat down, she looked up to see Judge Summers staring at her.  His eyes widened and the color drained from his face.  Without looking away, he said, “We’ll take a ten minute recess.”

Neen sat quietly beside Dave as people stood and milled around her.  Dave leaned close and whispered, “You look a lot like his wife, especially in that dress.”

After the courtroom emptied, the bailiff escorted them to the judge’s chambers, where he sat behind an imposing desk, robe off.  “Please sit down,” said the judge.

Too nervous to sit, Neen walked around examining the pictures and awards on the walls, while Dave introduced himself and showed the judge his ID. 

“Well, it looks like you know a lot of important people, Granddaddy.”

“Of course I do.  I’ve been a judge in the state of Oklahoma for well over thirty years.”

She turned to face him.  “Was it worth it?”

“Was what worth it?”

“Killing Ramon Ruiz?”

The judge slowly came out of his chair.  “Young lady, you’ll speak to me with respect or—”

“Or what?  Or you’ll send me to prison and have me killed, too?”

“I didn’t have anybody killed.  The boy had enough drugs on him to make it a felony, and I take a hardnosed approach with drug dealers.  I always have.  I have a reputation to uphold, and—”

“Reputation to uphold?”  Anger built inside her like a white-hot poker.  “Was your reputation more important than my father’s life?”

“If you’re talking about that Mexican boy, he wasn’t your father.”

The judge had raised his voice, but Neen spoke softly.  “Are you sure about that?”

“My daughter would never associate with—”

“With someone you deemed inferior because of the color of his skin?  Is that why Ramon went to prison to die?  Because you didn’t like the color of his skin?”  She almost spit out the words.  “Are you going to convict that kid in the courtroom today because of the color of his skin?  Who in the hell made you God?”

Dave leaned back and watched the exchange, his eyes shifting from Neen to the judge. 

The judge stared at Neen.  “What do you want from me?”

She tapped her finger on her lips.  “What do I want?  Hmm.  Well, let’s start with money.  Your people tore up my apartments and cars and forced me to keep moving for the past three years.  It cost me a lot of money.  And I don’t know yet if you’re involved with Julio Ruiz and his killers, but if you are, I want you to call them off right now.  I’m sick and tired of running from bullets.”

“Bullets?” the old man said on a gasp.

“They’re trying to kill me, although I sure as hell don’t understand why.  I haven’t done anything to them.”

Judge Summers dropped his shaking hand to the desk.  “Dear God, what had Miranda done?”

“She pretended to be my mother, for one thing.  And she blackmailed you, didn’t she?”

The judge didn’t deny it.  “I wanted you to stay here with me, but Gloria was so angry about Ramon she wouldn’t let me near you.  After she died, Miranda showed me a letter Gloria wrote.  My own daughter didn’t trust me with her baby.”

“Gloria was murdered, wasn’t she?”

The judge looked so sad, it tore at her heart.  “I never could prove it, but a man in my position makes a lot of enemies, Neen.  A lot of enemies.”

Dave spoke up then, asking about the microdot.

“Miranda showed me a copy of it after Gloria’s body was found.  She accused me of killing my daughter’s lover and then my own daughter.  I don’t know where she got the idea I’d stoop so low, but she said I’d either pay her to take care of the baby or she’d take the microdot to the press.”

“That would have ruined your career, “ said Neen, “but it wouldn’t have mattered at that point, because you’d end up in prison if that file on Ramon got out.  I don’t imagine a judge would survive very long if he was locked up with the men he’d sentenced.”

“I wouldn’t have gone to prison for anything, because I did nothing wrong, and don’t you dare speak to your elders in that tone of voice.”

She leaned over the desk, her face in his, and spoke firmly.  “I’ve gone through hell the last three years, partly because of you and Apple Gum and Cough Drop, so pardon me if I don’t show you the respect you think you deserve.” 

Neen sat down and continued.  “You traded me for your freedom and the respect of other people, but that little trade didn’t earn you my respect.”

“Apple Gum?  Cough Drop?  What are you talking about?”

“The two men you sent to search for the microdot.  They tore up everything I owned.  I cleaned out Miranda’s bank accounts and ran.  I couldn’t even work, because I knew they’d find me and I’d have to move again.”

The judge’s shaky hand went to his forehead and for a minute he looked as though he might cry.  “I supported you your whole life.  I’m the one who paid for your education.”

“I’m aware of that, but you also took my family away from me.  You sent my father to prison to be killed and my mother died, too.  I lost my family, and I didn’t even know about them.  I thought the woman I buried three years ago was my natural mother.  I didn’t even know I had a grandfather until a few days ago, and when I called your office, you refused to speak with me.  You had somebody give me the message that you didn’t have a granddaughter.  And then you sent the cops.  Were you going to have me arrested and thrown in prison for impersonating your granddaughter?”

“I thought you were an imposter.  It isn’t unusual for a man in my position to be the target of—”

“Bullshit!” she snapped. 

His eyes hardened and he pulled a checkbook out of the drawer.  “How much?”

Neen jumped to her feet.  “You don’t have enough money to pay me off.  I won’t live long enough to spend it anyway, unless we can stop Julio Ruiz and his killers.”  She paced from one end of the room to the other, stopping in front of his desk.  “Help us end this nightmare and you can keep your money.”

The judge lifted his chin.  “And if I do?”

“You’re not getting off the hook for the death of Ramon Ruiz, if that’s what you’re asking.  No way in hell are you getting away with that.  Whether you approved of him or not, that young man was my father, and because of you, I never had a chance to know him.” 

“No matter what you think of me, I didn’t have Ramon killed.  I sentenced him because of the drugs found in his pocket.”

He looked sincere, but she didn’t know whether to believe him or not.  She should feel something for him, shouldn’t she?  But all she felt was bitterness.  He didn’t want a granddaughter with Mexican blood, and she didn’t want a bigot for a grandfather. 

If he had her father killed, it wouldn’t matter how old he was or how they were related.  She wanted him to pay.

Chapter Ten

Greg never had much patience, and waiting for Dave to return with Neen made him antsy.  He tried calling Dave’s cell, but he didn’t answer.  Several scenarios went through his mind, all of them bad, and he grew more anxious by the minute.  It took him so long to find Neen, he knew he couldn’t lose her again.  If she didn’t want to stay with him when this was over, so be it, but he would not lose her to Ruiz or that crooked judge.  And he especially wouldn’t lose her to Dave Montgomery.  

Since that day in the cemetery, Ruiz had stepped up his efforts to kill her.  They knew Greg’s reputation as an agent in the DEA, knew he was as tenacious as a pit bull.  Whatever they thought Neen knew, they probably thought she’d pass the information on to him.  What was so important that he’d go to such extremes to protect it?

Kowalski came to the house to tell Greg, “They just left the courthouse.”

Greg didn’t ask how they knew.  He just accepted it as fact.  There were more FBI people involved in this than just Dave, and they were all keeping a close eye on Neen.  Allowing civilians to get hurt in an operation was a big no-no.  Dave wouldn’t let anything happen to her anyway.  He was crazy about her.  Even Kowalski liked her, and from what Dave told him, Kowalski didn’t get too close to anyone.

Greg had killed two men yesterday and he didn’t care that he’d ended two lives.  They deserved to die.  The first man he’d killed in the line of duty had affected him on a visceral level.  He didn’t sleep well for weeks after it happened.  The agency psychiatrist assured him that his feelings were normal.  What would that psychiatrist think of him now?  He had no second thoughts about shooting those men in the car.  He wanted to kill everyone associated with Ruiz, especially the crooked cop who planted the knife in his back and the ones who shot at Neen.  Who could care about men like that?

Two things drove him through the recovery from the stabbing – finding Neen and getting revenge.  Now he had Neen and he’d make up for using her to get inside that house.  And he would get his revenge on Ruiz, even if it meant taking out every one of his men.  A hole in his shoulder wouldn’t stop him, and he wouldn’t let anyone stop him from killing the man who stabbed him and the man who ordered it done.  Julio Ruiz.

The more he thought about the man who stabbed him, the more he wondered if it wasn’t his own partner.  Cramer had some serious woman troubles.  His last divorce had been a bitter battle, and he’d lost nearly everything.  Law enforcement officers had lousy records in the marriage department, but that didn’t excuse a man for turning traitor and trying to kill a co-worker.  Then again, maybe someone else stabbed him.  Clinton hired on later, so it wasn’t him.  Whoever stabbed him wouldn’t live long once Greg got his hands on him.

Carefully pulling his coat on, Greg sat on the porch swing to wait for Neen.  No doubt she’d put on a brave face for the judge, but after seeing her mother’s grave and meeting the judge face-to-face, she must be hurting inside.  When he saw her face, he’d know. 

He saw the cloud of dust coming down the long dirt drive before he saw the car.  He walked out to meet them and saw the strain on Neen’s face.  This hadn’t been an easy day for her.

“She was a tiger,” said Dave.  “You should have seen her.”

Neen didn’t look like a tiger now.  She looked more like a kitten with a sore paw.  He reached out and she walked into his arms.  He didn’t speak, but his hug reassured her that he’d always be there for her.   

After a minute or so, she sighed and pulled back.  “You should be inside resting.”

Brushing her hair back from her face, he said, “I can’t rest without you.” 

“Did you miss me?”

“Crazy question.  Did you miss me?” he asked, knowing the answer.  They’d been together constantly since that day in the cemetery, and it felt like forever.  It should be forever.

Dave grabbed several white bags from the car.  “We bought barbecue for lunch.”

Greg nodded, but all he wanted at that moment was the woman tucked under his right arm.

She slipped her arm around his waist.  “How are you feeling?  How is your shoulder?”

“Fine now that you’re here.”

“Liar.  You still hurt, don’t you?”

He gazed into her eyes and gave her his best hangdog look.  “Would you take me up to the bedroom and kiss it and make it all better?”

“Jeez, what a ham,” muttered Dave.  He walked past them and into the house with the bags.

“My ham,” Neen whispered, and Greg reached for another kiss.

*****

Neen felt like she’d come home, because Greg was there to meet her, to make her feel like she belonged somewhere.  With someone.  The visit with her grandfather had gone better than she expected, but she was left with an ache down deep in her heart.  He was part of her family, yet she felt more of a connection with her dead mother than with her living grandfather.  He seemed genuinely shocked to hear she’d been shot at, so maybe he cared for her on some level.  She felt nothing for him at all, except bitterness.  He’d killed her father and denied her existence.  The FBI could have him.

So why did the meeting leave her feeling so unsettled?

Greg looked scruffy, since he’d decided to grow a beard to change his appearance.  As he sat at the table wiping the barbecue sauce off his face and out of his whiskers, she remembered the day in the cemetery when he’d smelled so bad. 

“Please tell me you aren’t going to use that stinky disguise again.”

“Nope.  A few whiskers, a shorter haircut, and—”

“I need a haircut, too.”

“Tomorrow, two o’clock,” Dave said between bites.

“Today,” said Greg.  “We’re leaving in the morning.”

“Not until you see the doc again,” replied Dave, “and that’s not until the next day.”

Greg put his rib down and wiped his face.  “We’ll get what we need today, because we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Greg, you can’t—”

“Ruiz has had enough time to get more people here, and I’m not anxious to be used for target practice again.”  Gesturing with the rib, he said, “You were in the judge’s office today, on his turf.  Someone in Tulsa is tipping off Ruiz, and after your trip into town today, they know we’re still here.”

“No, they know I’m still here,” said Neen. 

Greg leaned forward and gazed into her eyes.  “After the way we danced together last night, would anyone in their right mind believe I’d go anywhere without you?”  He leaned back.  “They know we’re together.”

Neen closed her mouth. 

Dave threw down his napkin.  “Damn it, Greg, why do you always have to be right?”  He walked into the other room, pulling out his cell phone on the way. 

Neen wanted to ask where they were going, but she wouldn’t ask with the other men in the room.  She knew where she wanted to go.  Home.  The house had been torn up, and the power and water must be turned off by now, but if Miranda had left anything behind, it would be there, in her studio.  Cough Drop and Apple Gum had destroyed upholstered furniture and bedding on the main floor, but they’d left most of the rest of the house alone, including Miranda’s studio.

Greg finally finished eating and pushed his bone-stacked plate aside.  He caught her eye.  “I thought we’d go pay another visit to Uncle Wilbert.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought, too.”  She glanced at his plate.  “Sure you’ve had enough to eat, Greg?”

“You can never eat too much barbecue, right guys?”

Stipes and Kowalski, still eating, nodded their response.  Dave called from the other room.  “Hey, save me another rib or two.”

“Too late,” Greg called back.  “I already ate your share.”

Neen put two more ribs on Dave’s plate, added beans and coleslaw, and pushed the rest back toward the middle of the table.  “Eat it all, guys.  I don’t want any leftovers.”

“No problem,” Kowalski said between bites.

Dave returned and sat down at the table.  All the dishes in the middle were empty.  Greg pointed to Dave’s plate.  “You can thank Neen for that.  She’s looking out for you.”

“That’s because she loves me,” Dave said with a smile.

“Like hell.” 

Neen shook her head and left the room.  Those two bickered like little boys. 

*****

After Neen put a big roast in the oven for dinner, she and Greg took a nap, snuggling together under the soft down comforter on the bed.  They didn’t make love.  They just gave each other comfort.  Neen’s life had been a disaster from the day of her college graduation, the day her world came apart.  Leaving her home, drifting from one place to another, she felt she didn’t belong anywhere.  When she heard she had family in Tulsa, she thought she belonged there, but now she knew better.  She belonged right here, in Greg’s arms.  It didn’t matter where they were, as long as they were together.

After dinner, a woman came to the house to cut their hair.  Greg sat down.  The woman ran her fingers through his hair and sighed.  Neen shook her head.  “It’s a shame to cut those curls off, isn’t it?”

“It suits him.”

“Makes me look like a girl,” said Greg.

Neen got the giggles.  No matter what they did to Greg, he’d never look like a girl.  Greg grabbed her and tickled her to make her laugh harder. 

“Remember Gigi?” she sputtered between giggles.  “We should have taken pictures.”

“Smartass woman.”  Greg shoved Neen into the chair.  “Do her first.  Make her look like a boy.”

The woman smiled.  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You’re right,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.  “It’s not possible.  She’s all girl.”  He winked.  “My girl.”

The woman cut Neen’s hair in a simple, above-the-shoulder style that brushed back on the sides and tucked behind her ears.  The hairdresser put in a few highlights, making Neen look like she’d spent a lot of time in the sun.

When the woman finished with Neen, Greg sat in the chair.  He said, “Shave it all off.”

“No,” said Neen.  “Cut it shorter, but do not shave it off.  I don’t like my men bald, Gregory.  You got that?”  She loved Greg’s dark blond curls.  She could picture him with shorter hair or with lighter hair, even with darker hair, but she couldn’t picture him bald.

His eyes twinkled.  “Got it.  Shave it off.”

Neen shared a look with the hairdresser.  “Shorter and lighter,” she said, and the woman nodded slightly.  Greg wrinkled his nose.  “Lighter?”

“Be quiet, or we’ll dye it green and purple,” said Neen.  She’d turn her macho dude cop into a punk rocker if necessary.  She’d do anything to keep him from getting shot again. 

*****

Since Greg couldn’t get his stitches wet, he couldn’t shower, so Neen filled the bathtub and gave him a bath.  She started at the top and worked down, washing him as if he were a child and making sure his stitches stayed dry.  Reaching lower into the water, she lathered his erection, which had grown so big it poked its head out of the water.  If the tub had been bigger, she would have gotten in there with him, but Greg was a big man, tall and well muscled.  He filled the tub all by himself.

She washed his hairy legs and big feet, massaging them gently, then kissed him passionately and left the bathroom.

“C’mon back, honey.  You missed my belly button.”

Laughing, she turned down the bed and put fresh bandages and tape beside the bed.  Someone had to make sure his wound didn’t get infected, and since he wouldn’t stay long enough to go to the doctor, she’d have to do it herself. 

He came out with a towel wrapped around his waist and a smile on his face.  Cutting his curly hair off and bleaching it blond had changed his appearance, but it hadn’t changed the presence of the man, his cocky stance, or the way he took all the air out of the room just by standing in it.  She pointed to the bed and he sat down.  “I want to change your bandages and check your stitches.  Okay?”

“Okay, doc.  Check away.”

Pulling off the bandages, she gently washed around the wounds, cleaning off the Betadine solution they used in the hospital.  With clean gauze pads taped in place, she said, “All fixed.  It looks like it’s healing okay.”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss it and make it all better?  Mom always used to do that when I got hurt.”

She feathered gentle kisses around his bandages and pulled back.  “Is that better?”

“You missed the most important place.”  He tapped his lips.  “Right here.  It hurts right here.”

With a little laugh, she pulled back.  “Not until after my shower, and I want to put our clothes in the washer, so we’ll have clean clothes for the trip.”

“Never met a woman who was so obsessed with clean clothes.”

Cocking her head and lifting her chin, she said, “If I hadn’t washed clothes at the motel in Tulsa, you wouldn’t have had anything clean to stop the bleeding.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really wish you’d handed me the T-shirt instead of the shorts.  Jeez, I’ll never live it down.”

She took a step back and crossed her arms.  “You ungrateful, ego inflated—”

“That’s me.”  He grinned, which nearly sent her over the edge. 

Neen undressed and pulled on her robe, then carried all their dirty clothes downstairs and started the wash.  When it filled, she’d take a quick shower and then throw them into the dryer. 

When she went upstairs, Greg was on the phone with Dave.  He put his hand over the receiver and said, “Hurry with your shower.  We’re leaving in the next hour or so.”

“When the clothes get finished,” she said.  “I am not going anywhere naked.”

He wiggled his eyebrows.  “Well, now, that has possibilities.  Go shower and make it quick.”

She nodded, wondering if she could hurry the washer and dryer.  They could go with some things still damp and dry them the rest of the way at the next place they stopped, but she had to have dry clothes to wear.  The temperature hovered around freezing outside, and she didn’t want to freeze her tush off in wet clothes.  The second load would have to wait. 

Standing under the hot water, she felt a wave of disappointment.  She’d hoped they could rest for a few days, and the farm seemed safe. 

Greg opened the bathroom door.  “Are you okay?”

“No… yes… I don’t know.  I’m so tired of running.”  Yet she knew it was the only way to stay alive.

His hand came around the shower curtain and she grabbed it.  At least she didn’t have to run alone.  Those days were over.  But going out on the highway where Uncle Julio’s men could shoot at them again scared her half to death.  Because she feared that the next time, it might not be the bad guys who died.

*****

Greg let go of Neen’s hand and walked out to the other room.  He put the suitcases on the bed and opened them, gathered all their things, including his tote bag and her purse, and put them all out so Neen could pack.  The only things missing were in the bathroom and downstairs in the laundry. 

He stood in the bedroom with his electric shaver, shaving the itchy whiskers off his face.  To hell with the beard idea.  A clean look would be better with his new look anyway. 

His shoulder hurt tonight because he’d stopped taking the painkillers the doc gave him.  They made him groggy, and he had to stay alert. 

Kowalski came to the house and called up the stairs.  “Greg, Dave was on his way out, but he spotted a tail.  He says to come out to the barn, turn out the lights in the house, and stay put for now.  We think they checked the mileage on his car after the last run.  If so, they only have to figure out which direction to go since they know how far. “

“Yeah, okay.  We’ll be out as soon as Neen is finished in the shower.”

The water in the bathroom turned off and Greg heard the washer filling with rinse water.  He opened the bathroom door and told Neen, “No time to pack, honey.”

“Greg, I don’t have any… yes, I do.  I have clean underwear in my purse.  Can you get the dark clothes from downstairs?  They’re piled on the floor by the washer.”

“On my way.”

She dried her hair and dressed quickly, packing her purse and Greg’s tote bag with his new shirts and jeans.  Greg tossed the other clothes into the suitcases and shoved them under the bed.  Neen followed him downstairs with his tote bag and her purse.  She tossed the clothes in the dryer, he turned off the lights and locked up, and they walked out to the barn. 

In the barn, she asked, “Greg, did you get the keys to the car?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Yes, I had my hands full.” 

“I have a spare set,” said Stipes.  He handed them to Greg.

“I hate leaving without clothes again,” said Neen. 

“Do you still have that money we found in the Crown Vic?” Greg asked.

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing.  Clothes are replaceable.  You aren’t.”

Neen glanced around the barn.  A hole in the roof let in a little light and a lot of cold, but with the moon hanging in the sky right over them, the inside of the barn was draped in shades of darkness.  A ladder on the side led to a loft and it looked like there was a room in the back, on the left side, and a small bathroom on the right. 

“Where do you guys sleep?”

Kowalski pointed up. 

Wearing an earpiece, Stipes monitored the situation with Dave.  At one point, he said, “Dave lost the tail, but he’s not coming out here tonight.  There could be a second car.”

“If they know how far from town we are, it’s just a process of elimination,” said Greg.  “Do they know which direction he was going?”

“He was halfway here,” said Stipes.  “They know.  Better stay put until we know it’s safe to leave.”

“Couldn’t we stay put in the house instead of out here?” asked Neen.

“No.”  The answer came from all three men. 

Stipes climbed a ladder on the other side of the barn, one Neen hadn’t noticed.  The loft stretched along two sides, with the center high and open.  Kowalski went into the room in the back and came out with an automatic weapon for Greg.  He glanced at Neen.  “Can you shoot one of these?”

She shook her head.  She’d only learned to shoot her little gun, which shot one bullet at a time, at close range.  It wouldn’t do her much good against those long-range bullet-spewing machines, but if someone got too close, she could nail them.  If she lived that long.

Neen thought she had it together, that she’d been through so much the past three years she could handle anything, but she couldn’t get last night out of her mind – crouching on the floor with the phone, bullets pinging into the car, Greg getting shot, and the police treating them as if they were the villains. 

Julio would want revenge for the men he’d lost.  If he sent a dozen men, could these three tough cops fight them off?  Greg already had a hole in his shoulder.  How could he fight again tonight if more men came after them?

Greg wrapped his right arm around her.  “Scared?”

“Terrified.”

“Everybody gets scared in these situations, even macho dude cops.  Fear keeps us on our toes.” 

“The car following Dave turned in another direction,” said Stipes.  “We should be okay for awhile.  We got a guy about four miles up the road.” 

“Does this mean I can get my clean clothes out of the dryer?” asked Neen. 

“I’ll get the clothes,” said Greg.  “You stay here with Stipes.”

Kowalski went with Greg.  They didn’t turn any lights on, but they brought the two suitcases and a basket of warm, dry clothes.  They put it all in the windowless room in the back, where Neen folded and packed.  And this time, she put two pairs of clean underwear in Greg’s tote bag and her purse.  Stipes tossed the empty basket into the loft, out of sight.  She wanted to put the suitcases in the trunk of the car, but Greg put them in one of the stalls, deep in the shadows.

Time passed so slowly, Neen hoped the men chasing her had given up for the night, but she knew better.  Maybe the judge had given up now that she’d confronted him and Cough Drop and Apple Gum were in custody.  Julio Ruiz wouldn’t give up as long as she and Greg were still alive.  Greg was right.  Someone in the judge’s office had tipped off Julio, but she didn’t think the judge would do it.  He was too arrogant and self-righteous to work with a man responsible for bringing dope into the country.  Judge Alexander Summers wouldn’t lower himself to that level.

She wondered what happened to that dark-skinned kid in his courtroom today.  Had he been sentenced to prison to die like Ramon Ruiz?  Did the judge feel any remorse at all for what he’d done?  He’d lost his daughter, but Neen had lost her entire family. 

Greg paced like a big cat in a cage, and she worried about him.  He had to be hurting, but he wouldn’t take a pain pill.

She had a whole new respect for law enforcement officers who worked on a stakeout.  They had to stay alert, but sitting around and waiting for the bad guys made her jumpy.

Julio’s men appeared just after midnight.  One car pulled off the road into the drive leading to the farmhouse and stopped.  From the loft, Stipes said, “Here they come.  Four men, heavily armed.”

Greg pushed Neen up the ladder toward the loft on the other side.  “Stay out of sight until I tell you it’s safe to come down.”

“What about you?”

“Get the hell up there,” he snapped. 

Neen sat in the loft holding her little gun, shaking so hard she was sure she’d hit one of her protectors if she actually found the guts to pull the trigger.  A big open window over the double doors at the front of the barn and another one in the back let her see outside.  It also brought in the cold breeze. 

All the men carried automatic weapons.  One man went to the back door of the house, one looked in the car windows, and another came toward the barn.  The fourth man must have gone to the front door of the house.  She didn’t see him. 

It was so still in the barn, she heard the man brush against the side of the door on his way in.  She heard a quiet little scuffle, a gurgle, and a scrape as if something slid across the floor, and then silence.  The man left the car and walked toward the barn and Neen scooted to the middle of the loft, away from the window. 

Stipes took aim out the window and flashes of gunfire ended the man’s life.   Two down.

She wanted to call out to Greg, to see if he was all right, but she couldn’t without giving her position away.  And his, if he dared to answer.  Better to wait.  She couldn’t do anything now except get in his way and draw his attention away from the job at hand.

It grew very quiet again and then she heard something outside the front of the barn.  Peeking over the edge of the loft, she saw a man creep through the door and turn toward Greg, who crouched inside a horse stall on the other side.  He couldn’t see Greg from his position, but if he started shooting, Greg would no doubt take more than one bullet.  Neen motioned to Greg and pushed a little hay over the edge to distract the man with the gun.  He whipped around and Greg nailed him with one shot.  Greg motioned her down and ducked into the stall again. 

Stipes yelled, “Hey, that was the last one, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” Greg called back.

But neither man had moved.  Seconds later, the last of the shooters crept in the back door.  He made no noise at all, and she wasn’t sure Greg and Stipes knew.  Kowalski was in the room in the back, or at least he was there earlier.  As the man crept forward, Neen peeked through the straw and watched him take a step into the barn and then another, sweeping his gun and his eyes back and forth.  His feet flew out from under him and Kowalski hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun.  The man dropped his gun and hung by his feet from a rope attached to the rafters.  Kowalski tied the rope to something on the wall and left the man hanging upside down, swearing in Spanish. 

“I caught one,” announced Kowalski.

“I shot one,” said Stipes.

“And I have the other two bodies right here,” said Greg.

Amazing.  With a gunshot wound in his shoulder, he’d still killed two men. 

The man hanging by his feet swung back and forth.  He tried to reach up for the rope around his feet and Kowalski knocked him on the head again.  

“Neen, you okay?” called Greg.

“Just scared.  You?”

“Okay.  Stipes, check the man outside.” 

As Neen’s icy hands grabbed the ladder and she started down, someone turned on a flashlight and checked bodies.  Both of the men at Greg’s feet were dead and blood soaked Greg’s clothes.  She felt sick to her stomach.  “I hope that’s not your blood this time.” 

“I’m all right.”  Greg stepped between her and the bodies on the floor.  “Don’t look.”

She swallowed hard.  “Are we leaving now?”

“As soon as I get cleaned up.” 

Stipes came inside.  “He’s dead.  Greg, trade clothes with me.  I’ll take the kill so you won’t get tied up here forever.”

Greg nodded.  “Thanks.” 

“It’s payback for Neen’s cooking.  Take her and get out of here while you can.”

Right there in the middle of the barn, Stipes and Greg stripped down to their shorts and socks.  Stipes put on Greg’s bloody clothes while Greg washed up in the bathroom in the back.  When he finished, he put on Stipes’ clothes, and the two men traded the contents of their pockets.  Greg returned the borrowed weapon to Kowalski, who wiped Greg’s prints off and handed the weapon to Stipes.

Neen grabbed her purse and Greg’s tote bag, and, keeping her eyes off the dead man outside, put them on the hood of the old Chevy.  She came back for the two suitcases and pointed to the man hanging by his feet.  “What are you going to do with that one?”

“Torture him,” Kowalski said with a grin, bringing a fresh bout of swearing from the man, this time in English.

“Aw, shit,” said Greg.  “We’ll miss all the fun.”

Chapter Eleven

Greg insisted on driving.  His shoulder hurt like a toothache, but he had to stay in control and make sure no one followed them.  As soon as Ruiz heard what happened at the farm, he’d send more men after them.   

“Where to, boss?” Neen asked.

“Enid.  We’ll spend the night there and meet Dave down the road.  He can fly us home.”

“How far is Enid?”

“Couple hours.  We should be there by two-thirty or three.”

Neen stared out the side window.  “Good thing we took a nap today.”

“Neen, about what you saw back there—”

“I didn’t see anything, right?  We weren’t there when those men came to visit.”

“I hate to ask you to lie, but if we say we were there, we’d be tied down with so much paperwork you wouldn’t believe it.”

“I’m surprised Julio has any men left.” 

Greg counted five dead and four in custody.  Ruiz was risking a lot of his men to get to Neen.   “One of the men we killed tonight was a paid assassin.  The one we left hanging in the barn was one of Ruiz’ top men.  We saw the other two in the cemetery in Tacoma.” 

“You saw them in the cemetery,” said Neen.  “You had that stinky coat and filthy quilt over me.”

“Yeah, okay.  I saw them in the cemetery.  Anyway, we made a good catch tonight.”

Neen sat quietly for several minutes before speaking.  “I want to search Miranda’s studio as soon as we get back.  She’s at the center of this, isn’t she?  She knew Julio.  The more I think about it, the more I’m sure the painting I saw in Julio’s study was one of hers.  Do you think he had her killed?” 

“It looks that way, but we don’t have any proof.  Neen, did you spend much time in her studio?”

“No, the smell of paint irritated my allergies.  She had a separate ventilation system installed downstairs, so the fumes didn’t come upstairs.”

“What else did she have down there?”

“Greg, Cough Drop and Apple Gum know more about that studio than I do.  I hadn’t been down there in years, except when I got home from Julio’s house in LA and found the house all torn up.  They didn’t do much damage in the studio. At least I don’t think they did.  There were paintings propped against all the walls, two works in progress on easels, paints on the rolling worktable she used, and in the cabinet.  I didn’t spend more than a minute or two down there.  The cops gave it a cursory glance, filled out their paperwork, and left.” 

“They probably thought it was vandalism.  Kids.”

“Yes, that’s what they said, but I knew it wasn’t.  Kids would have made a mess of the paints, too.  They may have searched the studio, but they didn’t destroy it like they did the upstairs.” 

“What kind of paintings?  Oil?”

“Oils and pastels.  Sometimes she worked with charcoal, but she said she liked the depth of the work when she used oils.” 

“Did she give any of her paintings away?”

She grew quiet for a few seconds.  “I don’t know who she’d give them to, Greg.  She had no friends.”

“Neen, did the painting in Ruiz’ study have a signature on it?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t get that close.  One of Julio’s men reminded me that the room was private, and I left.”

Greg sat quietly, tired to the bone, his shoulder throbbing from the struggle with the man he’d knifed tonight.  They needed to talk more about the painting, but not tonight. 

The sooner they got back to Tacoma, the better.  Miranda Jacobs was at the core of this.  The information Miranda placed on the microdot had been used to blackmail the judge.  Her job in the judge’s office gave her access to things she had no business knowing, especially if she already had something to do with Ruiz at the time. 

He glanced at Neen, whose green eyes looked even bigger with the shorter hair brushed back from her face.  The haircut made her features more prominent, especially those beautiful eyes.  She had a strength about her that she didn’t have three years ago.  Another woman might have cracked under the pressure, but she’d kept going, kept running, learning things along the way, like how to use all her senses and how to walk into a crowd and disappear without a trace. 

He put his hand over hers, wanting to tell her about the microdot, but she didn’t need to know tonight.  She’d been through hell in the past few hours.  Seeing Clinton shot and bleeding was one thing.  Seeing the bloody corpses of men he’d killed was another.  Slicing a man’s throat was messy business. 

In the beginning of his law enforcement career, Greg believed in killing only when absolutely necessary.  He still believed that, in most circumstances.  But he’d long ago convinced himself that he was fighting a war, and if the soldiers on the other side were out to kill him, he had to kill them first.  Julio Ruiz was the most ruthless warmonger he’d ever come across.  Ruiz didn’t give a shit who he hurt or killed, as long as no one got in his way. 

Ruiz thought Neen knew something or had something, or he wouldn’t have bothered with her.  What could be so important that he’d go to this much trouble to kill one innocent young woman? 

Around three, Greg, tired and sore, pulled into the parking lot of a motel near Enid.  The motel office was closed, but he had no intention of going anywhere else.  He rang the bell and no one answered, so he leaned on the bell and banged on the door at the same time.

Finally, a rumpled woman with sleep-ruffled hair appeared on the other side of the window.  “Can’t you read?  The motel office is closed nights.”

Greg reached in his pocket and presented his DEA ID.  It had expired, but he didn’t leave it there long enough for her to read the dates.  “Downstairs in the back, one bed,” said Greg.

“Yes, sir.”

“And no one is to know I’m here.  Understand?”  He slipped her an extra hundred. 

“Yes, sir,” she said again, pocketing the bill. 

In the room, after Neen pulled his boots off, she handed him a pain pill and a glass of water.  She must have read the pain on his face, because he hadn’t said a word about it.  But she knew.  After only a few days together, she knew him better than any woman he’d ever been with, and he’d been with a few.  This woman cared.  He could see it in her eyes and in the gentle way she took care of him. 

Neen changed the bloody bandage on the front of his shoulder.  He’d pulled one of the stitches loose. 

“Sleep,” she said as she tucked him into bed and kissed him.  She put his gun on the nightstand where he could reach it and her little gun under her pillow, as she’d done every night since they’d been together.  

*****

Greg woke to the smell of coffee.  He stretched and opened his eyes.  Neen stood by the bed holding a foam cup.

“I made breakfast,” she said.

“Mmm, sure you did.”  His feet hit the floor with a thud.  “I didn’t know they had room service here.”

“They don’t.” 

He froze.  “You went out by yourself?”

“Look at the clock.  It’s after nine and I was hungry.  Would you have gone out without me?”  She sat at the table by the window and opened a take-out box.  “If you’re not hungry, fine.  Don’t eat.”

He sipped his coffee and went to use the bathroom.  When he came back, he said, “We should have been on the road hours ago.”

“No, we should have been sleeping.  You’re grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep.”

“Who’s in charge here?” he snapped.

She glared at him for a minute, chewing the last piece of toast.  “I don’t want to fight with you, Greg.”

“Then don’t.  I’m in charge and don’t you forget it.”

She stood and tossed her empty take-out box into the trashcan.  “I am not an empty-headed bimbo, and I’ll thank you to remember that, Mr. Macho Dude Grump.”

Greg finished his breakfast as a slow smile crept up on him.  Neen had such a mouth on her.    

“What in the hell are you smiling about?”

He leaned back to finish his coffee.  “I love it when you sweet talk me like that.”  Setting his cup on the table, he stood.  “Come over here and show me the soft, caring side.  I need a hug.”

“You need a swat on the behind and if you were a kid—”

He covered her mouth with his; silencing her, and starting something they both knew they’d finish in bed.  He scooped her tush against him, showing her what he wanted. 

“My horny macho dude grump,” she whispered as he unfastened her clothes and reached inside.  “I get the top this time, so you don’t hurt your shoulder.”

“You’re the boss, for the next few minutes anyway.”  He stripped his shorts off and stretched out on the bed. 

Standing beside the bed, she slowly pulled off her shirt and bra and then her boots and jeans.  God, she was gorgeous, sculpted of the best stuff in the world – from the top of her sweet smelling hair to her long, shapely legs.  She knelt on the bed, straddling his hips.  He put his hands around her waist, his thumb in her belly button, and urged her down so he could taste her nipples.  He let one hand drift down, through the thatch of curly dark hair at the base of her belly, then to the damp core of her womanhood.  His fingers slipped inside and rubbed, causing her to moan.  His mouth worked on her breasts in rhythm with his fingers and her breaths came in short gasps as she tightened around his fingers.  He pulled them out and she slid down on him, fitting them together the way they were made to fit together, rocking them in the intimate dance of love.  And he did love her.  He wanted to say the words, to shout them for the whole world to hear, but she wasn’t ready.  Not yet.  Not until she could sleep without a gun under her pillow, until she could walk down the street without thinking someone would shoot her, until she could love him back without fear for the future. 

He felt her going over the edge and let himself go, spilling his seed inside her.  He’d never used protection with her and he didn’t want to.  He’d never wanted to make a baby before, but that’s what he wanted now, a baby girl with Neen’s green eyes, her amazing musical talent, and her strength of character.  And maybe a little attitude. 

Still on top of him, Neen nuzzled into his neck, damp skin pressed to damp skin.  Sliding off him, she said, “Don’t you believe in condoms?”

“Not with you.  Aren’t you using birth control?”

“What for?  I haven’t had a lover since college, and he wasn’t…  He always used a condom.”

“He wasn’t what?”

Her eyes locked on his.  “We were only together twice and it wasn’t memorable.” 

“And me?  Am I memorable?”

“You are dynamite…”  She kissed him.  “… and I am the fuse.”

He laughed softly.  “And I thought it was the other way around.”  After another sweet kiss, he said, “We’d best get cleaned up and move on down the road.”

Neen cleaned up first and then Greg took a quick shower.  He got his bandages wet, but Neen changed them.  The one stitch he’d pulled loose in the barn hung half out, so she snipped it with her nail scissors and pulled it out.   

He put his hands on her waist.  “You take good care of me.”

“Someone has to.”  She tucked the scissors back in place in her purse.  “Besides, if you weren’t looking out for me, you wouldn’t have gotten shot in the first place.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Greg, they were after me.”

“No, they were after both of us.”  He didn’t want her blaming herself for the hole in his shoulder. 

She quickly packed, sorting their clothes and tucking them all in place with an efficiency he envied.  “If you hadn’t come after me that day in the cemetery, they would have killed me and left you alone.”

He reached for her and turned her to face him.  “Neen, look at me.”

She lifted her chin and gazed into his eyes.

“I’m a federal agent, honey.  It’s part of my job to protect innocent citizens. Even if it wasn’t my job, I’d still want to be with you no matter who was after you.  We’ll get through this together.  Trust me to do the best I know how to get the job done.”

“I do trust you,” she said softly.  Draping her arms around his chest and back, she reached up for a kiss.  He threaded his fingers through the side of her hair and brushed her cheek with his thumb. 

“Please don’t get shot again,” she whispered.

A slight smile curled the corners of his mouth.  “I don’t intend to.”

Getting shot again was definitely not on the agenda.  He had something to live for, someone to love and care for.  No way in hell would he give that up.  Or give her up.

*****

From Enid, Greg drove west and south, until they reached the Texas panhandle.  They stopped for sandwiches around two, and Neen said she’d take a turn at the wheel.  As she drove across the desolate landscape, dodging tumbleweeds, she said, “Why are we taking the scenic route?  Couldn’t Dave fly us home?”

“Dave got tied up in Tulsa, interviewing the judge’s staff.”  Judge Summers, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to cooperate with the FBI, and he’d ordered every member of his staff to answer all questions fully and honestly.  Dave said he didn’t want to take a chance that the old man would change his mind, so Greg and Neen were on their own for a few days.  Or almost on their own.  Dave would send Stipes and Kowalski to meet them in Flagstaff, assuming they extricated themselves from the mess at the farm by then. 

They had the man who survived the bloodbath at the barn locked up.  He wasn’t talking yet, but he would or he’d find himself charged with the attempted murder of a federal agent.  Whether he talked or not, he was on borrowed time.  People who crossed Ruiz didn’t live to tell about it, and neither did people who screwed up their assignments.  Since the feds caught him, Ruiz would not allow the man to live. 

*****

Driving into the sun gave her a headache, but Neen didn’t complain.  Greg needed his rest.  He had the seat tipped back, his cowboy hat pulled down over his eyes, snoozing. 

A black car sped around her.  Seconds later, a police car approached from behind, lights flashing.  The siren woke Greg, but by the time he sat up, the police car was gone.  “He must be going at least a hundred,” said Neen.  She drove the speed limit or slightly over, and the two cars went around her like she was parked beside the road. 

Traffic slowed to a crawl.  Two more police cars whizzed around them and then a fire truck, all with flashing lights. 

“Oh, no,” said Neen.  Black smoke rolled into the clear sky up ahead and traffic came to a stop.  They weren’t going anywhere. 

“Turn off the engine,” said Greg.  “It’ll be awhile before the road is cleared.”

As they watched the sunset ahead and the sky darkened, people milled about outside their cars, walking toward the accident to see what they could see.  A tow truck rolled slowly down the breakdown lane, lights flashing to chase people out of the way.  Greg walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat while Neen slid over to the passenger seat. 

Traffic began to move slowly, one lane and then the other, until they passed the accident scene.  The charred patrol car sat beside the road and a red pickup truck perched on its side a few feet away.  The black car had disappeared.  An ashen-faced patrol officer motioned traffic to move on.   

The covered form beside the burned car made Neen think about Greg’s mother.  How had she let her husband go out to work every day, knowing something like this could happen to him?  Did that man back there have a wife and family?  She let out a shaky sigh and rubbed her arms.  Greg had a dangerous job. Not just this assignment, but every one of his assignments put him in peril.  He put his life at risk every time he went to work.  And she’d had enough death in her life.  Both her natural parents, Miranda, those two men Greg killed on the highway, and the three at the farmhouse.  Seeing the body lying beside the road reminded her of how close she and Greg had come to lying somewhere covered with plastic, waiting for someone to deal with their bodies.  Greg had a family to mourn him, but she had no one but a judge who had no granddaughter.   

Greg glanced at Neen and back at the road.  “My father said it was foolish to get involved in a high-speed chase like that, because the car being chased would just speed faster, and the faster they go, the more dangerous it is for everyone, especially innocent bystanders.  The guy driving that pickup didn’t deserve to be hurt or killed because a cop didn’t use good judgment.”

“But that cop is dead.”

“Yes, he’s dead, because of his own stupidity, and what about the guy driving the pickup?  There are other options besides a high-speed chase on a busy highway.  Unless the guy they were chasing was a mass murderer, the risk wasn’t justified.  Even then it’s questionable.” 

“Talk about good judgment.  You were lying in a freezing cemetery in a stinky disguise waiting for a woman you couldn’t possibly have known would be there.” 

“It wasn’t the first time, Neen.  I was there last June, on the anniversary of the day she died, on your birthday, and again on Christmas day.”

“Why?”

“I knew you wouldn’t go home, and I figured you’d want to pay your respects sooner or later.  In checking out the cemetery last June, I spotted one of Ruiz’ men and knew they’d be back.  I wanted to get to you first, and the cemetery is in the open.  I knew you’d need a way to hide, and sometimes there’s no better place to hide than in plain sight.” 

How many hours had he spent hanging out in the cemetery not knowing if she’d show up that day?  He knew she needed him.  She knew it, too, especially now.  The cocky stance, the arrogance, and the I’m-the-boss attitude didn’t matter, because he cared enough to put his life at risk to protect hers.  And she loved him for it. 

They rode in silence for awhile and then stopped for dinner in a small town in northern New Mexico.  Neen was tired and hungry and emotionally drained.  Greg looked beat and he held his left arm against his waist.  He needed a pain pill and a full night’s sleep, but she knew he wouldn’t stop unless she pushed.   

They sat in the corner of the nearly empty diner.  “Greg, can we stop here for the night?”

He sipped his coffee.  “I can go another couple hours.”

“I can’t.  We’ll get an early start and make it up tomorrow.”

“If you’re worried about me—”

“Damn right I’m worried about you, you stubborn, pigheaded—”

He grinned and his eyes laughed.  “That’s my girl.  Sweet and soft spoken and—”

She leaned back and crossed her arms.  “If you think you’re getting any sympathy from me tonight, forget it.”

“Honey, all I have to do is touch you and you’re mine.”

She stared at the smug, self-confident look on his face.  “We’ll get two beds tonight.”

“The hell we will.”

“It’s my turn to be boss, and I say—”

“No.  End of discussion.”  The tone of Greg’s voice said to back off, and she did.  No more teasing.  He was all business. 

When the waitress brought the check, Neen asked if she knew a good place to stay nearby. 

“There’s a bed and breakfast down the road on the left.  The sign says Marley Manor.  It’s a big yellow house with white trim.  Never been inside, but I’ve heard it’s real nice.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Neen.

*****

Neen was right.  They needed sleep.  If this bed and breakfast had a place to park in the back, it would do.  Greg wanted to check in with Dave and get an update on the situation in Tulsa.  He also wondered if they’d learned anything more about Cramer and Clinton.  Was Cramer working both sides, too?

Since Clinton accused Greg of being the dirty agent, there could be a warrant out for his arrest.  If so, it could take some fancy finagling to get himself out of that trouble, and Ruiz would know.  He couldn’t take Neen to his house.  Maybe they could stay at the bar with Bo.  He had plenty of empty rooms. 

He glanced at Neen’s face.  She looked away quickly, but he caught the concern in her eyes.  He must look as bad as he felt.

He stood and dropped some money on the table.  “Okay, boss, let’s go find that bed and breakfast.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

“One bed.”

She didn’t argue.

Chapter Twelve

Marley Manor was the biggest house in town, yellow with white gingerbread trim and a big wraparound porch.  It also had a big parking area in back, off the alley. 

“Mom would love this place,” said Greg.  “She could have twenty foster kids in a house this size.”

“She still takes care of foster kids?” asked Neen.

“And any other strays that come along.  She always has, even when my father was still living.  I never go to a baseball or football game without a carload of kids.”

“Sounds like fun.”  Neen had never been to a baseball or football game.  She’d been to a few plays and musicals, but always with other kids and their parents.  Miranda hadn’t taken her anywhere but to school, lessons, and shopping, and she never encouraged Neen to bring friends home, although Neen stayed with friends when Miranda went on trips to sell her paintings.  Those trips never took longer than three days.

The perky thirty-something woman who ran Marley Manor introduced herself as Marley.  “This is a slow time of year, so you’re the only guests tonight.” 

Neen looked around the living room and smiled.  “It’s beautiful, so old-fashioned.”

“It’s one of the oldest houses in the area.  At one time it was a brothel.”  She smiled.  “You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get red flocked wallpaper off the walls.  I guess my great-grandmother didn’t think about that when she decorated.” 

Neen stifled a laugh. 

“It used to bother me, but it doesn’t now,” said Marley.  “And I inherited this wonderful house.” 

*****

As soon as they settled in the big corner room, Greg called Dave.  “Hey, what’s happening in Tulsa?”

“The shootout at the farm is still big news,” said Dave.  “Stipes was hailed as a hero, since he killed three of them, including one guy who was on the most wanted list.”

“Yeah, right.”  Greg could take haven credit for that one, since that was the man he shot inside the barn, but he wouldn’t.  “What about the other one?  Is he talking yet?”

“The lawyers are still negotiating.”

That meant the guy was ready to talk to save his own skin.  “I hope they don’t mess it up.”

“So do I,” said Dave.  “The judge’s people are all spooked by our investigation, and some are looking for jobs elsewhere.”

“Anybody still hanging around?”

“Jessie Riverton.  She’s been with him for over thirty years, since before his wife died.  She looks out for him, makes sure he takes his medicine, schedules time for a nap in the afternoon.”

“Medicine for what?”

“High blood pressure and heart problems.”

Greg sat on the side of the bed.  “So she was there when Miranda worked for the judge.  Did she and Gloria get along?”

“I have no idea.”

“Find out,” said Greg.  “And find out what medicine he takes, then send a couple pills to the lab.  Let’s make sure something else isn’t going on.”

“Greg, old boy, you’re getting paranoid in your old age.  She’s not the type to go astray.  This woman is about as dignified and proper as they come, from the top of her sprayed hair to the tips of her manicured fingernails.  She tracks the judge’s schedule and takes care of him like I hope someone will take care of me someday.  She’s active in local society, volunteers for community service projects and charities, and attends church every Sunday.”

“With the judge?”

“They go in separate cars, but they nearly always sit together.”

“Like a couple.”  Did Jessie Riverton want the judge all to herself?  Did she want him bad enough to kill his daughter or work with a snake like Ruiz?  No matter what the woman looked like, Greg wanted her checked out.  He’d learned long ago that it paid to follow your hunches.  “Find anybody else who looks suspicious?”

“No, but give us another day or two.” 

Greg’s instincts told him they’d already found the one.  “Find out how long Jessie and the judge have been together, and how ‘together’ they are.  If they were having an affair before the old man’s wife died, why didn’t he marry her?  He needed a helpmate in his political career, but he used his daughter.  Maybe Jessie was jealous of Gloria’s place in his life.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up.  Where are you?”

“At a brothel in New Mexico.” 

“A what?”

Greg grinned and disconnected. 

*****

Without asking, Neen came over to pull Greg’s boots off.  “We are not at a brothel, Greg, although that would be a good name for a restaurant and nightclub.  It could be decorated like the brothels were a hundred years ago or so, have live music or even a stage show.  Waitresses could wear…”  She glanced at his rapt face.  “Bad idea?”

“No, I like it.”  Greg stretched out on the bed.  “Okay, woman, this is a brothel, so get your ass in gear.  Take your clothes off and do me.  Earn your money.”

“Do you?”  Neen knew he was teasing, baiting her.  He must be feeling better, because he was back to his arrogant, cocky, demanding self. 

“All right, I’ll do you, but I expect a huge tip.”

“Oh, yeah?  What kind of tip?”

She answered with a coy smile.  “What do you have to offer, big boy?”

He jumped out of bed and chased her around the room, tackled her and pushed her down on the bed.  Holding her hands above her head, he slid his hand under her shirt and pulled her breasts loose from her bra. 

“Unhand me, you beast.  You didn’t pay me yet.”

He put his wallet on the nightstand.  “Take it all, baby.  You’re worth every penny.”

“Oh, yeah?”  She glanced at the nightstand.  “How much is in there?”

With a sheepish look, he said, “Uh… seven or eight dollars, give or take.”

She laughed until her sides hurt, and they negotiated her ‘tip,’ all the change in his pocket, which added up to seventy-eight cents.  And then, she proceeded to do him.  For a grand total of eight dollars and seventy-eight cents. 

Much later, Neen lay naked and happy in Greg’s arms, a satisfied woman. 

“You were worth every penny,” said Greg.  “I’ll have to come back to this place again, only next time I want you to sing for me, too.  I saw a piano downstairs.”

“I miss my piano.  Miranda bought one for my birthday when I was in the second grade.  I took lessons for so many years, I lost count, and I never once complained about practicing, because I loved it so much.”

“I hated the piano, so Mom got me a used guitar.  Bo had a set of drums in the garage, and Chance had a banjo.  Mia played guitar and sang.  We all sang, even though we sounded awful, but we thought we were hot stuff.”

“Aside from my lessons and occasional recitals and school events, I never played or sang with anyone, and the songs I performed with others were all written as duets.  I love singing with you because it’s so easy and natural.  No staging, just responding to the music and each other.”

“Was that what that was?” he teased.  “I thought you were just showing off.”

She smacked his arm.  “If I was showing off, then so were you.”

“Yeah, but I’m a macho dude cop.  I show off all the time.”

A little giggle slipped out, then another.  “I’m so glad you recognize that.”

He pulled her up for another kiss, but this kiss wasn’t about passion.  It was about love.  Whether he said the words or not, she knew he loved her. 

*****

Greg woke early and left Neen lying naked and warm under the sheet.  He was tempted to stay in there with her, but they had to get on the road.  He went down for coffee and brought a cup upstairs for Neen.  Setting the cup on the nightstand, he reached under the sheet to fondle her breasts.  She stirred a little, but didn’t wake up, so he pulled the sheet down and licked her nipples. 

“Mmm, not fair.  Come back to bed.”

“We need to get a move on, honey.  The coffee is on the nightstand and breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?”  She groaned and pulled the pillow over her face.  Neen was definitely not a morning person, but she was so much fun to wake up in the mornings.   

He watched her lift the pillow and sniff, then one eye opened and she spotted the coffee.  Greg moved it out of her reach.  “Sit up first, so you don’t spill it.”

She blinked several times.  “Who put clean bandages on your shoulder?”

“I don’t really need the bandages, except those damn stitches are catching on my shirt.  After you wake up, you can take them out for me.”

“Mmm, I’m awake.”

He looked at the rumpled, sleepy-eyed woman sitting on the bed with a sheet tangled around her torso.  “Uh huh, sure you are.”  She couldn’t even stand up yet.  Using a pair of scissors on him was completely out of the question. 

He glanced at his watch.  “Twelve minutes.”

She reached for the coffee and walked toward the bathroom; naked as the day she was born.  Greg felt his body respond.  “Down boy,” he said mostly to himself.  She turned and smiled, then closed the bathroom door, leaving him alone and fully aroused.  “Down boy,” he whispered to himself, adjusting his pants.  It didn’t take much for her to make him hot, and she was so sweet in the mornings. 

As much as he hated the idea of going into Ruiz’ house, he wanted to get a look at that painting in Ruiz’ study.  If he had a legitimate reason to go in there, he could get a search warrant, but that would blow his cover.  Yet, if anyone found out he’d gone into the house without a warrant, the case could be thrown out of court, and Greg could end up in a prison cell. 

Neen had stayed in Ruiz’ house for several days.  Did she know a way for him to get in without getting caught?  She knew that place better than he did.  And if so, would she help him? 

Was it worth risking his life and the case to look at a stupid painting?   

*****

Neen came out of the bathroom to find the suitcases on the bed and all their things sitting close by.  Greg expected her to pack again, but she didn’t mind.  “Where are we staying tonight?”

“Flagstaff.  Dave is sending Stipes and Kowalski.  We’re supposed to pick them up at the airport tonight.” 

She stiffened.  “Are we expecting trouble?”

“Maybe.  I want to see the painting in Ruiz’ house in Los Angeles, if I can find a way in without getting caught.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment.  “Are you kidding?  That place is armed to the teeth, and—”

“Dave says there’s no one there, so it should be fairly simple.”

She felt like throwing her hairbrush at him, but the more she thought about it, the more she wondered about that painting.  It hung on the wall behind the desk in Julio’s study.  “I know how to get in without using the doors.  Does that help?”

“You bet it helps.”

She folded clothes and packed quickly.  She was almost finished when it hit her what he was proposing to do.  Julio could be there when they went in, or some of his people could be there.  In any case, she couldn’t see him leaving the house unattended.  There had to be guards or cleaning staff or someone taking care of the place. 

“I know how to get in through the tunnels and passageways, but…  Greg, are you sure you want to go back to that house?” 

He walked up behind her and pulled her back against him.  “You’re not going in with me, honey.”

She turned to face him.  “You can’t go in there without me.  You’ll get lost in the passageways.”

“So draw me a map.”

“No.  If anyone is staying behind, it won’t be me, honey.”  Even as the frustration built inside her, she forced a smile.  “Because I’m the only one who knows how to get in.”  He dropped his arm and swore.  She ignored his outburst and walked to the door.  “Time for breakfast.”  Without looking back, she walked down the stairs to the dining room.  If Greg thought he could navigate that maze without her, he’d better think again.  He could wander in circles for hours before he found his way out. 

The panel in her bedroom closet wasn’t the only one in Julio’s house, and neither was the hidden door behind the bar.  The house and the grounds surrounding it hid a sophisticated tunnel system with entrances to nearly every room in the house.  She’d explored one tunnel and found the exit in a tool shed behind the garage.  The pool house dressing room hid another entrance, and the one behind the bar went so far she didn’t go all the way.  She hadn’t brought a flashlight and that tunnel was deeper and darker than the others.  It had to lead to another house or garage in the neighborhood.   

*****

Greg knew Neen meant what she said.  If he went into Ruiz’ house, she wouldn’t stay behind, and there was no way to keep her away short of locking her up.  Maybe they should skip it and go directly to Tacoma.  The thought of going into that house gave him the willies.  He’d almost died in that place, and if Neen hadn’t had the good sense to hide, they would have killed her.

By the time the raid went down that night, he wasn’t aware of anything.  After he woke up in the hospital, he wanted to question the men who were there, but he couldn’t.  He didn’t know which one was in Ruiz’ pocket, and he was groggy from the pain meds they had him on.  That knife wound had nearly killed him.  The damage to the nerves around his spinal cord was painful, and it took time to get the strength and function back in his right leg.  Another millimeter and he would have been permanently paralyzed.  The man who knifed him had intended to kill or disable him, to put him out of business so he could never work again.

“Greg, are you coming down for breakfast?” Neen called.

“On my way.”  He galloped down the stairs, grateful to be walking at all.  After he killed or captured Ruiz, Greg would find another profession.  Bo wanted him to go into business with him, turn the bar into a nightclub and restaurant, but Greg couldn’t think of anything now except a young woman with green eyes and a strong will, one who wouldn’t let him sneak into Ruiz’ house without her.  Knowing her, if he left her behind, she’d find a way to come in by herself.  He’d rather take her in with him than risk her going in alone.

Neen smiled coyly over her coffee.  “Hungry?” she said softly. 

He kissed her and whispered, “Crazy woman.  We don’t have time for—”

“Too bad,” she whispered as Marley carried in a tray with their breakfast. 

*****

As they approached Flagstaff, Greg’s cell phone rang.  Dave said, “I just landed in Flagstaff.  Can you and Neen meet me at the motel out on—”

“You’re here?”

“Weren’t you listening?  I’m in Flagstaff.  I reserved adjoining rooms at a motel, and I’m on my way there now.”  Dave gave him directions.  “How close are you?”

“We’re about twenty miles out, give or take.  What happened to Stipes and Kowalski?”

“Stipes is working with the guy they caught in the barn, and Kowalski is wining and dining Miss Jessie Riverton.  The woman simply cannot hold her liquor.  She talks and talks and—”

“I get the point.”

“And we need to talk about what to do in L.A.  No matter how much you want to see that painting, we’re not blowing the case over this.  If we can’t find another way, we’re not going in.”

Greg already had second thoughts about the necessity of going into that house.  He understood what Dave was saying, but there wasn’t a legal way in without a court order, and they couldn’t get a court order to look at a damn painting. 

At one time, Greg worried about blowing his cover, but that was no longer a concern.  Ruiz knew the FBI was after him, and he had to know they were after the dirty agents in the DEA.  He’d have to be stupid not to know that by this time, and Ruiz wasn’t a stupid man.

There was only one way for Greg to go into that house without jeopardizing the case.  Dave wouldn’t like it, but Dave wasn’t going in with him.  This was one job Greg had to do on his own.

 *****

An hour later, Neen sat with the two men in Dave’s room, eating take-out from the diner next door.  It tasted so bad that she closed the box and dropped it in the trashcan.  Stretching out on Dave’s bed, she asked, “What did you learn in Tulsa, Dave?”

He hesitated long enough for her to sit up.  “Tell me and don’t tiptoe around the facts.  Start with the microdot.  It was my grandfather’s handwriting, wasn’t it?”

“No.”  Dave exchanged a long look with Greg and she knew they were keeping something from her.

She nailed Greg with a look and told him, “If you don’t level with me right now, you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.  “It looked like the judge’s handwriting, but the experts said it was Miranda’s.  We assume she copied the information from a file.  If it wasn’t true or mostly true information, she wouldn’t have been able to blackmail the judge with it.”

Miranda.  She couldn’t even think of her as Mom anymore.  “Miranda could copy anyone’s handwriting, Greg.  What else?”

Dave pushed his laptop back an inch or two.  “According to your grandfather’s lady friend and secretary, Miranda was jealous of Gloria.  Whatever Gloria had, Miranda wanted.”

“Including Ramon?”

“And you.”

As that penetrated her brain, she realized what he wasn’t saying.  “Are you saying she’s the one who had my father killed?”

“The judge swears he sent Ramon to prison, but he didn’t order him killed.  He took a lie detector test and passed that part of it.”

“What part didn’t he pass?”

“He had let personal feelings influence his actions in Ramon’s trial and in the sentencing phase.”

“Did he kill my mother?”

“No, he didn’t.  He loved your mother, Neen.  He was crushed by her death.”

“Miranda?”  Neen lifted her chin and stared at Dave.  “Miranda knew what my mother was driving that night.” 

“Yes, she had to have known, but we have no evidence—”

“What’s your gut feel on it?”

Dave sat on the bed beside her.  “My gut feel is that Miranda wanted you and the only way to get you was—”

“To kill Gloria.”  Neen felt numb.  She couldn’t even comprehend the mother she grew up with killing someone so she could steal a baby.  Miranda had showered Neen with love. 

Greg sat beside her and wrapped her in his strong arms.  “My whole life was a lie,” she said.  “Everything I believed in was a lie.”

“Shh,” whispered Greg.  “Believe in me, honey.  I’ll never let you down.”

Dave rubbed her back.  “I won’t either, Neen.”

“My grandfather isn’t a killer?”

Greg kissed her temple.  “He’s a hard-assed, opinionated son-of-a-bitch, but he didn’t kill Ramon or Gloria.”

“He’s not all bad, although he does have an over-inflated opinion of himself,” said Dave.  “Thinks he’s right up there next to God.”

“I noticed.” 

“He said he doesn’t want to lose touch with you, Neen.  You’re the only family he has left.”

“Then where was he when I was growing up?  Where was he when Miranda died?  He sent Cough Drop and Apple Gum to follow me and tear up my homes, but he couldn’t send a message that I had a grandfather?  And now he wants me to keep in touch?”

Silence settled over the room before she spoke again.  “Tell him I said to go to hell.  He knew what kind of person Miranda Jacobs was and he let her take me because he didn’t want his career to go down the tubes.”  A little sob caught in her throat.  “He was ashamed to have an illegitimate granddaughter, especially one with a Mexican father.”

She walked to the door between their rooms.  “The judge traded my life for his damn career.”  Nailing Dave in her gaze, she said, “Tell the honorable Judge Alexander Summers he’ll have to make do with the prestige of his career, because I have no grandfather.” 

Let him see what it felt like to be denied and to be treated as if he didn’t exist.  As if he didn’t matter any more than a fly on the wall. 

To hell with him.

Chapter Thirteen

While Neen took a hot bath, Greg called Bo at the bar.  “Did Skeeter get the Jeep?”

“It’s here.  No wires, but he found a tracking device under the front bumper.”  Bo’s voice held a hint of laughter. 

“What did he do with it?”

“Put it on a Montana Highway Patrol car.” 

Greg laughed.  “That’s a good place for it.  Anything else from Cramer?”

“No, but Robinson called here the other day.  He asked for you, but he was looking for Cramer.  I told him you were visiting a friend in Denver and I didn’t know anything about Cramer.”

“Good.”  Bud Robinson, Greg’s former boss at the DEA, looked out for his team.  He didn’t ask anything from them he wasn’t willing to give himself.  Greg had always liked working for Robinson, but he’d never work for him again.  After the doctor expressed doubt that Greg would fully recover, Robinson wanted to put him on permanent disability.  At a time when he desperately needed to believe he could work again, Robinson wanted to take away his goal.  It just made Greg fight harder to recover from his injury.  And he had recovered.  He’d surprised them all.

He ended the call and sat by the bed, watching Neen sleep.  She’d curled into a fetal position around his pillow, and tearstains streaked her cheeks.  She’d refused to let him comfort her after their talk about her grandfather, saying she needed to be alone.  He hated to see her hurting like this.

Snatching a dry pillow from Dave’s room, Greg undressed and crawled in bed with Neen.  She rolled into his arms the second he touched her.  “That’s my girl,” he whispered.  She fit like she belonged there, with her soft, warm body tucked against his.  With a little kitten sound, she snuggled and sighed. 

He knew on some level that Neen wanted to know the judge, wanted to be accepted as part of his family, wanted reassurance that she mattered to him.  He suspected the judge wasn’t having an easy time with this, either.  Had Miranda denied him access to his granddaughter, or was it his decision to stay away? 

*****

Later that evening, Greg told Dave, “I want to see that painting in Ruiz’ house.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Neen knows how to get in without using the doors.”

Dave shook his head.  “You can’t go in without a warrant and I don’t think any judge will give you one at this point.”

“Of course not.  That’s why we have to find another way in.”

“To look at a painting?  I’ve worked too damn hard on this case to have you blow it now.” 

 “I’ll go in by myself,” said Neen.  “I don’t work for the FBI or the DEA, so—“

“No,” both men shouted at the same time. 

“You’re not going in,” said Greg.

She crossed her arms.  “Then you aren’t either, because I’m the only one who knows how to get in without setting off the alarm.”

“Damn it, Neen.“

She shook her head.  “I’m going in, and I’m going in alone.”

Greg turned to Dave.  “We can’t let her go into that house alone.”

Dave muttered, “You’re both crazy.  Is that painting important enough to—“

“It could be,” said Greg.  “I have a strong hunch—“

“Damn it, Greg.  Your hunches won’t stand up in a court of law, and it won’t override the illegality of breaking and entering.”

The men argued for over an hour before Dave finally agreed to help them do what Greg wanted.  Greg might have to take Neen in with him, but not Dave.  When Dave was a kid, a hand-dug tunnel collapsed with him and his friend inside.  Dave got out; his friend didn’t.  No way would Greg take him underground.

*****

The next afternoon, Dave flew them to a small airport in the L.A. area, where they rented a car and drove out to Ruiz’ neighborhood to wait for dark.  Greg knew the neighborhood quite well, and so did Neen, from jogging.  It helped to look it over again, to refresh his memory. 

Greg tried to keep his apprehension hidden from Neen.  The last time he was in this house, he’d left in an ambulance, barely clinging to life.  The doctors patched him up the best they could, but for months the pain made him wish he’d died.  Worry about Neen and a determination to make the bastard who’d betrayed them pay for his pain kept him going.  He knew she’d survived the raid, but when Bo and his buddies tried to find her, they found her mother’s house torn up.  Neen was gone, and no one knew where to find her.  Greg feared for her life.  He didn’t know if Ruiz and his men had her or if she was on her own.  He wanted to help her, but he couldn’t even help himself in those days.  He’d put everything he had into physical therapy and rebuilding his strength. 

When he’d recovered enough to look for Neen, he found where she’d been and learned that Ruiz was still after her.  He was amazed that she’d been able to stay alive that long when a powerful man wanted her dead.  Guilt ate at Greg.  He should have gotten her out days before the raid.   

Now he was going into Ruiz’ house again, and if he got caught, he could end up in a landfill somewhere, or as fish food, and the investigation into the dirty agents in the DEA could be jeopardized.   

“The house looks empty,” said Neen.

“I had someone check it out,” said Dave.  “Aside from a cleaning crew that comes in once a week and two guards, no one else has gone in and out of the house.”

Neen shook her head.  “You can’t possibly know that.”

“Neen, they watched every door in the house.”

“Did they watch the garage next door?  Did they watch the landscaping people to see if they went into the garden shed?  Did they watch the pool man to see if he disappeared into the dressing room?  Dave, there are secret passageways throughout the house and tunnels underneath, and they come out in the most interesting places.”

Dave’s blue eyes grew bigger.  “You’ve been through all these tunnels?”

“All but the one behind the bar.  It’s long and dark and I didn’t have a flashlight.  There are probably lights somewhere, but I couldn’t find them, and I have no idea where it ends.”

“I can’t believe they built crude tunnels in earthquake country.”  

“Who said anything about crude?  These have concrete walls and floors and big beams on the ceilings.  They may be narrow and dark, but there’s nothing crude about them.”

*****

After it grew dark, Dave parked on the street behind Julio’s house.  Neen took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Fear left her body cold and her hands clammy, and she could only imagine how Greg felt.  What in the hell were they doing? 

“Somebody tell me again why we’re going in here.”

“To look at the painting in his study,” said Greg, “and we’re not going in.  I am.”  He handed Dave an envelope.  “If something happens, I want you to take Neen and get lost.”

“What’s this?”

“My resignation, effective the day before we left the farm.  You thought I was just casing the neighborhood, not planning to break in.”

He took the envelope.  “Just don’t get caught, so I don’t have to use this.”

Greg turned to Neen.  “Draw me a map of those passageways and tunnels.  You’re staying out here with Greg.”

“Like hell!  You can’t navigate through those passageways without me, and you’d never find the study and the painting.  You need me, Greg.”

Greg had sweat beading on his forehead again.  For the first time, she wondered if he was going into this house to face his fears.  If so, this was the wrong way to go about it.  If he let panic control his actions inside that house, they could both be in deep trouble if not dead. 

“We’ll try the tunnel entrance in the pool house dressing room.    I don’t have a clue how to turn off the alarm system, but maybe we won’t have to.”

Neen pulled on tight black gloves and grabbed her purse.  Greg shook his head.  “You’re not taking that thing anywhere.  Leave it in the car.”

She shot him a withering look, grabbed her purse, and walked down the street toward Julio’s house.  Greg followed closely behind her.  Neen slipped the long strap from her purse over her neck and pushed the purse under her arm.  Leave it behind?  Not on your life!  Greg had his tool kit strapped around his waist in a fanny pack.  Her purse was her tool kit.  Besides, if something went wrong and they had to run, she’d need her purse. 

Julio’s house was dark, but there were motion sensor lights on the outside.  When she stayed with Julio, she’d learned how to walk through the grounds without triggering them, because when those lights came on, Julio’s men paid too close attention to her. 

Dave took off in his car.  He’d worn colored contacts, black-framed glasses with a wad of white tape around one corner, a baseball cap, and he had a mustache stuck above his upper lip.  The plan was for him to knock on the front door at precisely eight-thirty to distract the guards.  Neen prayed that the two guards Dave’s men had spotted earlier today were the only ones in the house.  They didn’t need any complications.

Neen pointed to a corner of the stucco fence surrounded by thick shrubs and pushed herself into the bushes.  Greg gave Neen a boost up.  She crawled over the top and dropped quietly into the yard.  Greg dropped over behind her.  “Follow in my footsteps,”  she whispered.  “If you don’t, the lights will come on.”  At least Julio didn’t have guard dogs on the property.  He was probably afraid they’d eat Pepe, his little dog.

She moved toward the pool house, ducking into the shadows behind it and then around to the front and inside the dressing room.  Greg followed silently.

Running her hands around the edge of the wall behind the mirror, she found a little lever.  The mirror swung open toward them, and they had to squirm around so the door had room to open.  She ducked through the door, pulling her flashlight out to see the steps.  Greg missed the first step and nearly fell on top of her.  She pushed him back and realized she’d grabbed his sore shoulder.  “Sorry,” she whispered, hoping she hadn’t hurt him too much. 

Greg turned on a big flashlight and they moved single file in the narrow, stuffy tunnel.  Neen led the way, but when they came to another door, Greg pushed her behind him.  She whispered, “This is the basement, I think.”

“You think?”

She shrugged and pointed to the right.  A few feet down, there was another door, and the tunnel ended.  They either had to go through this door or go back.  Neen held the flashlight while Greg searched for a latch or something that would open the door.  She didn’t know where it was, since she’d come from the other direction before – from the main house to the pool house.

Greg grabbed her shoulders and leaned down close.  “You stay here.  I’m going in alone.”

He had to be kidding.  “Do you know how to find the study without walking through the house and getting caught?”

“Neen—”

“Of all the stubborn, pigheaded—”

“Shh.”

She slipped under his arm, found the latch, and walked through the door.  This one opened inward.  Neen followed the narrow passage to a stairway, and Greg followed closely behind her.  Walking softly, she made her way up the stairs and turned left at the second branch, the one that led to the living room, library, and Julio’s study.  After the second ninety-degree turn, the passage stopped.  She pointed to the right, at the secret door to Julio’s study. 

The picture hung across the room, behind Julio’s desk.  Feeling around the wall on the right side of the door, she found the tiny peephole.  She tugged at Greg’s sleeve and put his hand on the metal cover.  “Look through here,” she whispered.

*****

Greg didn’t know whether to be angry with Neen for taking over or grateful for her help.  He never would have found this room without her, and he never would have thought to look for a peephole. 

He leaned down to look through the peephole that must be the right height for Ruiz.  “The room is empty, but I hear voices,” he whispered. 

Two guards came into the room, laughing.  One sat in the chair behind the desk and pulled out a deck of cards.  The other one sat across from him and they began to play cards.  Greg closed the peephole.  He wondered if they had a routine, a schedule for walking through the house, or if they just wandered around when they felt like it.   

He turned to peek through the peephole again.  The guards were arguing about something.  One walked toward the peephole and Greg held his breath.  Without glancing at the peephole, the guard pulled out a bottle of tequila and two glasses.  He might never get inside the room if those two got drunk.   

Neen tugged on Greg’s arm.  “Are we just looking, or are we going to take it?”

Take it?  That had never occurred to him, although...  “No, we’re not taking it.  He’ll know we were here.”

“He will anyway if we go into that room.  There are cameras everywhere.”

“Aw, shit!  Okay, then we’ll take it.”

Neen looked through the peephole and whispered, “How soon will Dave ring the doorbell?” 

Greg looked at his watch.  “Two minutes.”

 The doorbell rang and the guards left the study.  Greg reached for the door and Neen put her hand on his arm to stop him.  “I’ll do it, Greg.  You stay out of sight.”

Neen went through the door herself, pulled the painting off the wall and ducked back through the hidden door.  Ruiz would see her on that camera, and only her.  Ruiz would never report the break-in anyway.  He couldn’t report it without disclosing the tunnels, and he couldn’t do that.  Ruiz didn’t want cops in these tunnels and passageways. 

*****

Neen lifted the heavy painting off the wall and ducked back through the hidden door to the passageway.  She heard the guards coming back into the room and wondered how long it would take them to notice the painting was gone. 

Greg took the painting from her and followed her through the tunnel to the tool shed.  It was too risky to use the door in the pool house.  The tool shed was in a more private area of the yard.  This tunnel hadn’t been used recently.  She moved on, brushing the spider webs away as she made her way through the tunnel.  Spiders made her cringe, but she didn’t have time to be squeamish.  She wanted to get out of here.

A few feet more and she found a cave-in on one side.  It didn’t completely block the tunnel, but it made her wonder if they shouldn’t go back.  No, better to go on.  They couldn’t be more than a few feet from the garden shed, and it looked clear ahead. 

She slipped past the cave-in, but Greg wouldn’t fit.  Reaching for the painting, she said, “I’ll get a shovel or something from the shed.”

“What?  You don’t carry one in your purse?” said Greg.

“Smartass cop.”  She left him behind and continued through the tunnel to the shed.  By the time she reached her destination, Greg was close behind her.  She raised her eyebrows.  “I thought you couldn’t get through.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” said Greg.  “Good thing Dave isn’t with us.  He’s afraid of being underground.”  Greg pushed the door open a little, then Neen squeezed through and moved the bags of fertilizer away from the door so it would open far enough for Greg to get through. 

Peeking through the dusty window in the shed, Neen watched the guards scan the backyard and then return to the house.  They’d no doubt discovered the painting was missing by now and were trying to figure out how someone got into the house without setting off the alarms.  She didn’t think the guards knew about the secret passageways and tunnels. 

Neen and Greg walked out the side gate as if they had a right to be there.  Dave pulled up around the corner and Greg put the painting in the trunk.  Neen slid into the backseat and took a deep breath.  Thank God nobody was in that house except a couple of drunken guards.  She felt a little sorry for them, because they’d be in big trouble when Julio found out the painting had been stolen from under their noses.  Julio would be furious when he saw her on the security tape.  What could he do?  Send more men after her? 

How many more men did he have left to send?

*****

Greg glanced at his watch.  They’d spent a good half-hour in that house, and nobody got hurt or killed.  He put the visor down and looked in the mirror, checking for anyone following them.  It was hard to tell at night, but it didn’t look like anyone followed them out of Ruiz’ neighborhood. 

“I can’t believe you pulled that off,” said Dave.

“The whole passageway and tunnel system is a well-designed maze,” said Neen.  “After that raid, I’ll bet there were men still hidden in those tunnels.”

“What about Ruiz?”

“He ducked in the hidden room behind the bar with the two goons who guard him and several big packages of something.”

“Probably heroin,” said Greg.

“Or money,” said Neen.  “Julio knew he’d have to leave, because his men knew exactly what to do.  In minutes, they had the house clean.  They took those packages, guns, Julio’s papers, and I don’t know what else.” 

They sat quietly for several minutes while Dave drove to the airport.  Something didn’t feel right to Greg.  “Would you spend all that money to create those tunnels without using them again?”

Dave shook his head.      

“When the agents took me out of the house that night, we had to pass through a roadblock,” said Neen.  “Julio wouldn’t have risked that.  He doesn’t mind killing other people, but he’s too smart to risk getting shot himself.  I think he stayed in another house that night, maybe for several nights, until the excitement died down.” 

Did Julio want Neen dead because she’d found the tunnels?

*****

The flight to Flagstaff didn’t take long, but by the time they landed and drove to the motel, it was past two in the morning.  Greg carried the painting inside and put it on Dave’s bed.  He was still pumped from sneaking into the house of the biggest drug lord in the kingdom.  Neen pulled a magnifying glass from her purse and examined the painting.  Greg propped his hands on his hips.  “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the signature.  Ah, here it is.  M Jacobs.”  Neen handed the glass to Greg.  “Have fun, guys.  I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep before the world explodes around us.”

“Huh?”

“When Julio finds out what we did, he’ll throw a tantrum, and when he gets pissed everybody runs for cover, including his dog.”

Dave’s mouth dropped open.  “Ruiz has a dog?”

“One of those little Mexican Chihuahuas.  Julio has his clothes designed with a big pocket on the left side, so Pepe will fit in it.  Dog on the left, gun on the right.  I think that dog is the only living thing he cares about.”

“A dog?  Ruiz has a dog?”  Dave grabbed Neen and gave her a big smack on the lips.  “We’ve been looking for his soft spot, and you just handed it to us.  Neen, honey, I love you.”

Greg shoved Dave aside.  “Get your hands off my woman.”

Neen pushed them both away.  “Get away from me, both of you.  You bicker like little boys, and I’m sick of it.”  She walked into the other room, pushed the door closed between their rooms, and flipped the lock. 

It took Greg a second or two to realize what she’d done.  Digging in his pockets for the key, he remembered he’d left it on the dresser in their room.  Dave held up a key.  “I asked for two keys to each room, but you’ve been such a butt, I—”

Greg grabbed the key.  “Do you have to be so fucking irritating all the time?”

“Me?”

“Look, Montgomery, I’m strung out enough without you—”

“You’re strung out?  I’m the one whose job is on the line here.  You’ve already lost yours.”

Dave’s comment stopped Greg cold.  They let him participate in this only because Dave insisted.  And Dave was in charge of the operation.  Greg backed toward the door.  “I’ll try to remember that.  As if I’ll ever be able to forget it.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.”  Greg walked into the hallway and slid the card into the lock on his door, but Neen had put the night latch on.  It wouldn’t open.  He sat on the floor beside the door and waited.  Surely she’d check the door before she went to bed.  Wouldn’t she?

He was bone tired and his shoulder had stiffened up.  He could sleep in the car if he had the keys, but he didn’t.  They were on the dresser with the room key and his wallet.  He leaned his head against the wall by the door and closed his eyes. 

*****

Neen stared at the big empty bed.  She couldn’t sleep until Greg wound down.  It sounded quiet next door, so she unlocked the door and peeked in.  The room was dark and Dave was sound asleep.  Where was Greg?   

Unfastening the night latch, she carefully opened the door and gazed down at Greg, sitting on the floor, sound asleep.  She couldn’t stop loving him if she wanted.  Squatting down, she stroked his face to wake him. 

He opened his eyes.  “Can I come in now?  Please?”

How could she refuse this man with the sleepy eyes and contrite behavior?  They were all tired and under so much stress no wonder they snapped at each other.  The bickering she didn’t mind before ate at her now, because if they didn’t pay attention, Ruiz could get the upper hand.  And if he did, the next knife wound or the next bullet would kill Greg.

Chapter Fourteen

As Neen and Greg and Dave prepared to leave Flagstaff the next morning, Dave looked at the painting and cocked his head.  “I’m no expert on art, but I think I saw a painting similar to this in the judge’s home office.”

Greg stared at the painting.  “I hate lugging that thing around.  Why don’t we take it out of the frame?”  He turned it over and motioned for Dave.  He put his finger to his lips and pointed to the little metal gadget buried in the back of the frame. 

They had to assume the bug was meant for eavesdropping. What had they said after they’d picked up the painting?  Were all Miranda’s paintings bugged, or just this one?  What did she do with the others?  Neen still found it hard to believe that Miranda could be involved with Julio and his shady business.  She knew what kind of man he was.

Dave took his pocketknife and pried the gadget out of the frame.  “It’s an empty case,” he said, snapping it open.  Whatever had been inside, it was gone now.

Neen wondered about the painting in the judge’s home office.  If she could see it, she’d know if Miranda painted it.  If someone had put a listening device on the frame of that picture, it would explain how Julio’s men always found her after Cough Drop and Apple Gum appeared. 

She glanced at Dave.  “Did you have someone check the painting in the judge’s home?”

“They’re doing it today, Neen.”

Of course they were.  Dave knew how to do his job.  He and Greg were the experts, the law enforcement professionals.  She hadn’t had any training in anything except how to shoot her little gun, and in the past three years, she hadn’t paid much attention to the law.  She’d focused all her energy on survival.   

At first, she wanted to find Greg because he was the only person she could trust, but she’d grown to resent him for abandoning her and leaving her in that house to get shot at.  Hearing about how he’d been stabbed, seeing him get shot, and knowing he’d killed four men in Tulsa made her fear for his safety.  She’d learned how to avoid Julio’s men, but Greg didn’t run from trouble, he faced it head-on, which scared her more than she cared to admit, even to herself.   

*****

Hours later, they landed at the Tacoma Narrows Airport in Gig Harbor and rented a car.  Greg could’ve had someone in his family pick them up, but he didn’t want to get any of them involved in this, especially Mom. 

After a late lunch at the airport restaurant, Greg drove them to Miranda’s house in North Tacoma.  The sprawling home had a daylight basement with windows out the back, and although the yard had gone to weed and the paint had faded, it had obviously been a beautiful home at one time.  Miranda had done well for herself.  >From what Dave’s people discovered about Miranda’s past, she’d had a poor upbringing with an alcoholic mother and two older brothers who also drank.  After high school, she’d severed her ties with her family and hooked up with Gloria Summers, who’d taken pity on her.  Miranda envied Gloria’s privileged life and wanted to live like her.  From the looks of this luxurious home, she’d found a way to do just that. 

Neen handed her house keys to Dave, who unlocked the front door, disappeared into the house, and opened the garage door.  Greg pulled in and Dave lowered the door behind them.  The electricity was off, but they could see in the daylight.   

Greg glanced at Neen, who seemed reluctant to leave the car.  “Show me around,” he said gently, and she nodded. 

They followed Dave into the house.  Greg asked, “Neen, have you been here in the last three years?”

“Several times, but I was afraid to stay too long.”

“Can’t blame you there,” said Dave.  “Did the judge’s men do this?”

“I assume so.  I found a cough drop wrapper in the middle of the mess.” 

Dave chuckled.  “Nothing like leaving a calling card.”

“It’s not funny.  Look what they did to the furniture.”

“I assume Ruiz’ men were here, too,” said Greg.  “Where’s Miranda’s room?”

She pointed.  “Down this way.”

There were three large bedrooms and two bathrooms on the left side of the house.  The master bedroom faced the backyard and the view of Puget Sound.  Neen’s bedroom at the end had windows in both outside corners, and the beds and bedding in both bedrooms had been destroyed.  The other bedroom was set up as a study, with overflowing bookshelves and a computer desk by the window.  That room faced the street. 

The spacious living areas were furnished with classic pieces that looked expensive.  The overstuffed sofa and chairs and the seats of the dining room chairs had been torn apart, and the baby grand piano was dusty, but beautiful.  That thing must have put a big dent in the judge’s bank account.

The house felt cold and stuffy, and the kitchen didn’t smell very good.  “Don’t open the refrigerator,” said Greg.  Whatever was in there had to be rotten by now.

Neen shook her head.  “I cleaned it out the last time I was here and put a box of baking soda inside, but that smell will never go away.”   

Dave opened the pantry door.  “Did Cough Drop and Apple Gum skip this?”

She shrugged.  “Apparently.” 

He twisted to face her.  “If you were going to hide something very small, where would you hide it?”

“I’d probably tape it to the back of a shelf or drawer, or put it inside the flour canister or something.  Or do what Miranda did – put it inside a piece of jewelry.”

“Smart girl, but Cough Drop and Apple Gum didn’t look there.”

“Not so smart,” said Dave.  “Why would they think she’d hidden it inside the stuffing of a piece of furniture?”

“Maybe that’s where the judge told them to look,” said Neen.  “Or maybe that’s where Miranda told the judge she’d hidden it.”

“If he believed that, he’s as stupid as they are,” said Dave. 

Neen showed Dave and Greg the two empty rooms behind the garage.  “I think this used to be a family room at one time, but the people who lived here before had a whole bunch of kids, so they converted it to more bedrooms.”  There was a bathroom with a shower beside the laundry room.  Four bedrooms – five if you count the study – and three bathrooms on one floor.  In the little house Greg grew up in, they had three bedrooms, one bathroom, and a zillion kids. 

Neen pointed to the open stairwell beside the dining room.  “The studio is downstairs, but we’d better find flashlights first.  It’ll be dark soon.”  She pulled open a drawer in the kitchen, grabbed a big flashlight, and clicked it on and off.  “This one still works.”  She handed it to Greg and grabbed another, smaller one.  “This one doesn’t.” 

Dave held up his flashlight.  “I brought mine along.”

This time Greg led the way, with Neen right behind him.  The big room downstairs had paintings sitting on the floor and propped against the walls, all similar in size, about two feet wide by three feet tall.  Greg thought Miranda would have painted landscapes, since she had a dynamite view of Puget Sound, but these paintings were mostly of young ladies in long pastel gowns, carrying parasols, or of a man with his head bowed and hands cuffed, standing before the scales of justice, like the one in Julio’s study.  There were four of these compelling paintings in Miranda’s studio, two in frames and two on easels. 

As Dave examined the backs of the framed paintings, Neen pointed to a door on the side.  “There’s another big bedroom and bathroom in there.  Mom – I mean Miranda – used it for storage.” 

Greg put his arm around Neen’s shoulders and she sighed deeply.  Seeing the house she grew up in looking like this must be upsetting.  The last time she’d spent any time here had been right after her mother died, before she’d gone to Los Angeles to visit her ‘uncle,’ Julio Ruiz. 

He left Dave to poke around downstairs and took Neen up the stairs to the living room.  Pointing to the piano, he said, “Play something while we work.” 

“Greg, I need to look through the—”

“Play,” he said firmly, knowing it would distract her while he and Dave searched the house more thoroughly.  They had to get the power turned on, so they could see what they were doing. 

He’d find a crew to take the destroyed furniture and the refrigerator to the dump, but no matter what they did with the house, she couldn’t stay here until they finished the job with Ruiz. 

The simple, sweet melody Neen played turned into an angry classical piece.  Dave came upstairs and the two men stood in the living room, listening to her play.  Greg quietly said, “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Dave nodded. 

They waited until the music ended and Neen had tears running down her face.  “What did I do to deserve this?”

Greg squatted beside her and rubbed her leg.  “Neen, honey, we’ll get this cleaned up and—”

“It doesn’t matter, Greg.”  She wiped her face with both hands.  “I’ll never live here again.”

“Then we’ll get it cleaned up and you can rent or sell it.”  He reached for her hand.  “Come on.  Time to go.”

“Where?”

“We’ll go to Bo’s place for the night.”

“I don’t want that monster to follow me there.”

“Bo has rooms upstairs over the bar.  The last tenant moved out a few weeks ago, so they’re all empty now.”

“Okay, but if—

He put his finger to her lips.  “Kowalski and Stipes should be here tomorrow, and they’ll help us search the house.  We’ll find the solution to this puzzle and get Ruiz off your case for good.”

Greg hoped he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep. 

Since they’d broken into Ruiz’ house, she’d been more quiet than usual, and she kept her distance from him in bed.  At first he thought she was upset about being in Ruiz’ house again, but he suspected it was something else.  He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

They locked the house and Greg drove Neen and Dave to the bar.  He and Bo owned the building free and clear, but the building needed a lot of work.  Bo’s buddies helped him get the left front corner of the building renovated so he could open the bar, but they didn’t have the time or money to convert the rest of the building.  As soon as Greg finished with this case, they’d get to work on it again.  Without a job, Greg would have plenty of free time to help work there.

He pulled the car into the dark corner behind the bar.  “Give me a minute.”  Using his key, Greg let himself in the back door and walked through the corridor to the bar in the front.  Bo stood behind the bar and Skeeter wiped down tables.  There were only two customers. 

“Hey, Bo.”

“Hey, Greg.  How’s the shoulder?”

“Nearly healed.”

Bo motioned to Skeeter and walked into the back with Greg.  “Are you here alone?”

“No, I have Neen and Dave Montgomery with me.  I don’t suppose you have a couple empty rooms upstairs.”

“Sure do.  Skeeter is staying in the front room on the left, but the others are empty.”

“I don’t want to bring any trouble down on you, but—”

“Hey, what are brothers for?  Skeeter can handle the bar.  It’s a slow night anyway.”

Greg motioned Dave and Neen inside, and Bo welcomed them with handshakes.   

*****

Neen followed Bo up the stairs, and Greg and Dave carried their bags up.  The second floor of the building looked like an old hotel, with several rooms opening off a central hallway that ran from front to back.  The room in the back by the stairs belonged to Bo, and Skeeter, a man she’d yet to meet, had the room at the other end, overlooking the front of the building. 

Dave took the room across the hall from Bo’s, near the stairs, and Greg and Neen took the other one overlooking the front of the building.  Another staircase in the front led to a big empty room on the side of the bar. 

The beds weren’t made, but Bo brought fresh sheets and towels.  “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Neen took the sheets from his hand.  “Not a problem.  I do know how to make a bed.”

Bo was a handsome man with a dimple in his chin, like Greg’s.  His hair was darker and not as curly, but they had the same warm hazel eyes and the same quirky smile.  Definitely brothers.  His left elbow seemed rigid and she wondered how badly it had been injured. 

Bo asked, “Have you had dinner?”

Greg shook his head.  “Not yet.  Does Skeeter still make that—”

“He made a big pot yesterday, so hot it’ll burn the lining off your stomach.  I’ll set the pot on the stove and turn on the oven for the bread.”

Bo left and Greg explained, “Skeeter won a chili cook off contest a few years ago.”

Neen wondered what she’d gotten herself into.  Hot chili?  Her stomach churned already without putting something that spicy in it, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  “It sounds good, but I don’t think I can eat chili tonight.”

“Pizza okay?” asked Dave.

“Sure.”  She could always pick the spicy pepperoni off.

Greg helped her make the bed and unpack a few things, and then they went downstairs to look around.  The building was fairly large, with eight rooms upstairs.  The main floor was larger, since the big room on the right side had a high ceiling.  “Was this a restaurant at one time?” she asked.

“Yes, years ago, but the health department closed them down,” said Bo.  “I hired an exterminator and replaced the grease-clogged ventilation system in the kitchen.  The old bar was in fairly decent shape, so Greg and I thought we’d open that portion of the business until we figured out what to do with the rest of it.”

Neen stood in the middle of the big, empty room and turned around, looking up and around the room.  It had a big, round alcove in the corner.  “I’d put a balcony over there,” she pointed toward the ceiling near the kitchen.  “Big pots of plants below, something that would climb, like ivy.  Maybe a skylight or two over it, for the plants.”  She pointed to the corner alcove.  “And a piano over there, for the singer.”

Bo scratched his head.  “Problem is, we don’t have a singer.”

Greg said, “We do now.”

“Who?  You?”

Skeeter walked into the room.  “Last customer just left.  I locked up.”

“Skeeter, where’s your mouth harp?” asked Greg.

Skeeter, a wiry, nervous man, pulled the small instrument from his shirt pocket.  Greg spoke with him for a few minutes, then Skeeter began to play a Linda Ronstadt song, one of the old-fashioned ones Neen loved. 

Greg raised his eyebrows.  “Neen, you’re on.”

She whipped around.  “Me?” 

Greg turned all the way around.  “Do you see any other girl singer here?”

“Okay, but I’m not singing alone.”  She took his hand and they moved to the center of the floor, swaying and moving to the music as if it were a part of them.  And then she began to sing.  Her voice soared and filled the room, the sound pure and clear and perfectly pitched.  He harmonized with her at times, but it was her song.  She sang like she owned it.

When they finished, Dave had a big smile on his face, and Bo looked stunned.  “Does Mom know?”

“Not yet,” said Greg.

“You are keeping her, aren’t you?  Because if you don’t, Mom will never forgive you.”

Greg exchanged a long, smoky look with Neen, and she had to look away, because Greg didn’t answer Bo’s question.  He could have said something – anything – but he didn’t. 

The more time Neen spent with Greg and Dave, the more she felt that Greg was using her.  She’d let herself fall in love, but for Greg, it was all about the case.  After he finished the job, he’d walk away and she’d be alone again.

*****

After breakfast the next morning, Neen paid the overdue bills and had the power and water turned on in the house.  Greg and Dave had their cell phones, so they could get by without a telephone for now. 

Greg drove them to the house.  She didn’t feel as uncomfortable with Greg and Dave there with her, yet she knew Julio would send more men after her soon.  It wouldn’t take them long to figure out that she’d come back to Tacoma, back to Miranda’s house.  With any luck, they had a day or two, but Julio’s men could burst into the house any second and mow them down with those bullet-spewing machines. 

She had to stop thinking that way, but she couldn’t.  She’d been living a nightmare for too long, one that didn’t go away when she woke up.  Even with Dave and Greg around, the threat remained. 

While the men searched the studio, Neen cleaned the upstairs bathrooms.

Greg ran up the steps carrying a computer diskette.  “Neen, did I see a computer in the study?”

“Help yourself, if it still works.”

“If it doesn’t, we’ll go get my laptop.”

“You didn’t bring your tote bag?”

He winked.  “No clean underwear with me today.”

She followed him to the study.  “Where did you find that?”

“In the bottom of a box of paints.  Dave is still digging around.”

He turned on the computer and slipped the diskette into the drive.  Seconds later a list of files appeared on the screen.  Greg turned the printer on and printed it out.  There were no files, just the list of files.  The contents had apparently been deleted.  He handed the list to Neen.  “What do you make of this?” 

“Looks like a list of books.”  She pulled books off the shelves as she read them off.  “The Playing Field, by Jeannie Moon.  Oranges in December, by Marci Peterson.  And Peteydink, by Colleen Loomis.”  

She stacked the books on the desk beside Greg.  He opened the first one and pulled a sheet of paper out of the middle.  The second book had a page inside, too, and so did the others.  Greg exchanged a look with Neen and opened the papers.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what they were.  They must have been important or Miranda wouldn’t have hidden them. 

Neen glanced out the window and something clicked in her brain.  The black car had driven past the house two other times, and the two men inside stared at the house.  She grabbed Greg’s arm.  “Greg, that car—”

Greg stuffed the papers in his shirt pocket and ran downstairs with Neen to get Dave and the guns they’d left on the table in Miranda’s studio.  Neen grabbed her purse on the way down. 

She pointed to a door on the side of the bar, which led outside.  Neen led the way down the hill behind the house.  The steep hill had a narrow switchback trail leading to the beach below, but the bottom leg of the trail had fallen away, leaving a drop of about ten feet or so.  Neen tossed her purse down, jumped, and scrambled out of Greg’s way.  Greg made it down okay.  Instead of jumping like the others, Dave slid down on his behind, creating a mini landslide behind him.  By the time he reached the ground, he was covered in dirt. 

Pressing themselves against the slightly concave side of the hill, with Neen in the middle, they waited.  “Here they come,” she whispered. 

“Look out,” said one man.  “The hill is giving way.”

Dirt rained down on them, but they held their positions and the men above retreated.  Neen heard their voices near the house, swearing because they’d lost her again.  She turned cold, as if she wasn’t cold enough already, standing out here without her coat.  Greg and Dave didn’t have theirs, either, and cold air rolled off the chilly water of Puget Sound. 

Greg whispered, “How do we get back up?”

Neen pointed to the left.  “One of the neighbors has stairs, but if she sees those guns... and I can’t carry anything more in this purse.  It’s stuffed full already, and it weighs a ton.”

Greg’s phone rang and Neen froze.  He quickly answered, whispering his responses, then he snapped it closed and whispered, “Bo is on his way with Stipes and Kowalski.” 

“At least Stipes can shoot,” Dave whispered.  “Three kills in the barn.  Three.”

Neen glanced at Dave’s eyes and knew Stipes had told him the truth.  Dave was goading Greg again.

It grew quiet on the hill above them, but those men were still up there, waiting to pick them off.  She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait too long for reinforcements.  If they moved in either direction, they could be spotted. 

To get back up, they needed help from above. 

Chapter Fifteen

Neen stood with Greg and Dave, their backs pressed against the hill, shivering not just from the cold, but also from fear.  What if those men decided to come down here and look for them?  And what if the hill came down on top of them?  Little bits of dirt kept sloughing off the raw place where Dave slid down the hill.  His face had turned white with fear.  This big, strong FBI agent was terrified.  She put her arm around him and rubbed his back.  “We’ll be okay, Dave.”

“Yeah, sure,” he whispered. 

She hoped Greg hadn’t hurt his shoulder when he jumped down.  He could have ripped more stitches out, but right now she was more concerned about Dave.  He and Greg might be highly trained, but one feared another serious injury and the other feared being buried alive.  And she was afraid of being left to fight Julio’s men on her own.  Only she wasn’t brave enough to stand and fight.  She’d run like hell, like she had before. 

It seemed like forever before Stipes walked down the beach toward them. 

“The old lady down the way said we could use her stairs.”  He smiled broadly.  “I had to show her my ID and promise not to let the bad guys come to her house, but she gave me a cookie and pointed the way.”

“Where’s my cookie?” asked Greg.

“Yeah,” said Dave.  “The least you could have done was—”

“Go get your own,” said Stipes.

Neen shivered so hard her teeth chattered.  Stipes took his coat off and draped it around her shoulders, and she smiled her thanks.  He was built like Greg, with thick muscles, so the coat bagged around her, but she welcomed the warmth. 

 Mrs. Carlsen stood at the top of the stairs, clucking and fussing before they all got to the top of the rickety wooden steps.  She had hot chocolate and cookies waiting for them, as if they were little kids out on a cold Halloween night.  Neen gratefully took a cup and sipped.  “Mmm, Mrs. Carlsen, this is so good.  Thanks so much.”

“Neen, it’s so nice to see you again.  Are you back to stay now?  Your house has been sadly neglected.”

“I know, and I wish I could move back right now, but I can’t.  I’ll find someone to take care of the house.”

“We all understand what you’ve been through,” said the old lady.

No, she didn’t, and neither did the other neighbors.  How could Neen take care of a house or anything else when she was running from killers?  Maintaining the house had definitely not been at the top of her priority list.

The men gulped down several cookies and drank their hot chocolate, thanked Mrs. Carlsen, and followed Neen across three backyards to Miranda’s house.  “Nice old lady,” said Stipes.

“Yes, she is,” replied Neen.  “She was especially nice to me after Miranda died.”  All the neighbors were nice to her, but Mrs. Carlsen went with her to identify Miranda’s body and to the mortuary to choose a casket.  She was there when the others weren’t.  Neen felt a little bad about disappearing without telling her why, but she didn’t want to give the woman a heart attack or stroke.  She had to be nearing eighty.

Bo and Kowalski paced inside the house.  The bad guys were gone, but Neen knew they’d be back.  They always came back.

Sitting at the table in the kitchen with Neen, Greg spread out the wrinkled pages from the books in the study, and Dave threw down two one-way plane tickets to Brazil for Maria Gonzales and Philippe Lorenzo.  The tickets were dated two weeks after Neen’s college graduation. 

“Passports?” asked Greg, and Dave tossed them on the table. 

One had a picture of Miranda.  The picture on the other passport was of Greg’s former partner.  “Phil Cramer,” said Greg.  “I’ll be damned.”

Neen reached for the passports and Greg handed them over.  She studied the man’s picture.  “I’ve seen this man before, with Miranda.  I cut a class in high school and came home early.  This man was here.  Miranda said he was working on the furnace, but I didn’t see any truck or tools, and since they came out of the bedroom, I assumed they weren’t fixing anything except maybe each other.  I just couldn’t figure out why she didn’t tell me she had a guy.  I would have been happy for her.”

Dave pointed at the papers on the table.  “Are those from the diskette?”

“Indirectly.”  Greg pressed the wrinkles out of the papers.  “Our friends in the black car showed up before we could read them.”

The first page listed a dozen names and cities.  No titles were given, but some of the names sounded vaguely familiar.  Dave’s people would check them all out.

The second page listed four dates and what looked like titles or names of something.  Greg showed it to Neen.  “Does that look familiar?”

“Sounds like names of paintings, and those dates … two are before she died and the other two were the week after.”  She looked up at Dave.  “Do you remember the names on those two paintings she had on the easels downstairs?”

Dave motioned to Kowalski with his head, and Kowalski disappeared downstairs with the paper.

Neen stared at the checklist on the last page. 

–  Wire money to off-shore account

–  Transfer house

–  Buy clothes

–  Tell Neen

–  Sell car

–  Close bank accounts

Only the first three items were checked off. 

“I didn’t know she had an off-shore account, and I assume she would have told me she was leaving the country.”  She looked into Greg’s eyes.  “I know it’s hard to believe, but Miranda and I were close.  I thought she was my mother.” 

“I know, honey,” Greg said softly.

Neen looked back at the list.  “She couldn’t take her car and I already had one.  And the bank accounts were probably the ones I found after she died.”  She dropped the page on the table, her hand shaking. 

Greg put his hand over hers. 

She took a deep breath, said, “I’m all right, Greg,” and pulled away.

“Neen, do you have an attorney?”

“No, but I suppose I’ll need one.”

“I’ll call Chance.” 

Neen would need an attorney at some point, so why not use Greg’s oldest brother?  She excused herself and walked into the living room.  Being in this house again and then finding this evidence against Miranda had shaken her more than she cared to admit. 

This may be simply part of an investigation to Dave and Greg, but Neen’s foundation had been ripped out from under her.  Miranda conspired with a drug baron and blackmailed a judge, and when things got too dangerous, she made plans to abandon her daughter while she and her lover escaped to another country.  Didn’t she know that Julio would come after Neen?  She must have known he’d want revenge. 

Why in the hell hadn’t Miranda warned her about Julio?

*****

Greg pulled out his cell phone and called his oldest brother.  Chance and his assistant could check for any other bank accounts that Miranda may have had, and they could check on the house, too.  He assumed Miranda would have transferred the title to Neen, but if she hadn’t, Neen would have to go through probate.  She hadn’t been around long enough after Miranda’s funeral to do anything about the estate.   

As he spoke with his brother, Greg walked into the study.  He sat at the desk and stared out the window.  Although Stipes was on watch, he couldn’t watch everywhere at once.  Ruiz didn’t pay his men to screw up, and that meant the men in the black car would be back to finish the job. 

Greg ended the call and closed his phone. 

Dave stood in the doorway.  “Looks like we found what Ruiz has been looking for,” he said.  “I wonder if Miranda took a painting with a bug in the frame to each of those people.”

“I’ll bet somebody did.”  Greg stood to face Dave.  “We need to pay each of those people a visit.”

“It’s in the works, Greg.” 

Of course it was.  Dave was a damn good agent.  In spite of their friendly bickering, Greg had a lot of respect for Dave Montgomery. 

Dave propped his shoulder on the doorframe.  “Do you think Miranda tried to blackmail Ruiz like she did the judge?” 

“I don’t think it would have mattered one way or the other.  Miranda knew too much.  She had to know that Ruiz would kill her.  Cramer is no dummy, either.  They had to leave the country before Ruiz had them both killed.”

“He didn’t leave,” said Dave. 

“Yeah, I know.  He and Clinton are hiding around here somewhere.  Cramer has a cabin on Harstene Island, but he wouldn’t go there.  Property records are public information, which means Ruiz probably knows about it.”

Kowalski came upstairs and told Dave, “The last two paintings on the list are downstairs, in frames.  I checked the backs and they both have a little drilled out spot the right size for a listening device.”

“Miranda didn’t live long enough to deliver them,” said Greg.  “Ruiz knew she was smart enough to keep something on him, so he had her killed.  And then Neen came into the picture and he wanted to pump her for information before he killed her.”

From behind Kowalski, Neen said, “It no longer matters what I know or don’t know, because the information has already been turned over to the FBI.” 

Dave peered over Greg’s shoulder.  “We need a working fax machine.”

“There’s a bank down the street and two blocks over.  They’ll have one,” Neen said.

“On my way,” said Dave.  “Where’s Bo?  His car is behind mine.”

Bo walked down the hall toward them.  “I’ll drive you over.  I know where it is.”

Before they could get to the front door, the black car screeched past and Bo’s new Subaru exploded in flames. 

Stipes yelled, “I got the license number.” 

Kowalski ran downstairs.  They quickly turned out all the lights.  Neen stayed with Bo in the living room, and Dave rushed into the bedrooms to watch out the windows. 

The fire truck arrived first, with the police car right behind it.  Since Bo had parked on the driveway a few feet from the house, the house was only scorched on the outside.  It didn’t catch fire.  Neighbors came outside to watch, but as soon as Dave identified himself and spoke with the police officer in charge, the officers chased people back to their homes.

“Nothing like stirring up the whole neighborhood,” said Neen.  “As soon as the police leave, the killers will be back.  And we’re trapped here.”

“Maybe,” said Dave.  “I’m going with the officer.  Be back as soon as I get these pages faxed to the Denver office.  Neen, would you feel better coming along?”

She glanced at Greg.  “Thanks, but I’ll stay here for now.”

Greg knew what that cost her.  She was terrified, trapped, and she’d chosen to stay with him.  He wrapped his free arm around her.  “Maybe you should go while you can, honey.”

She shook her head. 

Greg pulled her close and she stayed there, in his arms where she belonged.  He’d do anything to keep her safe.

*****

Neen felt a heightened sense of awareness as the men went through the house looking for marks in the dust where those men from the black car may have planted bugs or bombs or whatever.  She sat at the piano, her purse on the floor beside her, in easy reach.  More police cars arrived, and Neen played one soft melody after another, knowing Ruiz and his men would come again, but not while the local police swarmed the property.  Dave gave Stipes the job of checking the car in the garage.  The cops wouldn’t go near it, not that she could blame them.  The nearest FBI office was in Seattle, over an hour away, and the Tacoma police didn’t have a bomb squad.  They usually called the military experts from Ft. Lewis, but it often took hours for them to arrive.  If there was another bomb planted here, they could all be killed while they waited for the experts to check it out.  They couldn’t walk out into the street with Julio’s men out there somewhere, and they couldn’t drive back to the bar with Bo’s smoldering car behind their rental car.  And until someone checked it out, they weren’t sure if it was safe to use the rental car.   

“I’ll call Skeeter,” said Bo.  “That was his specialty in the Marines.  He knows more about explosives than any man with ten fingers.  He can check the car and whatever.”

Greg handed Bo his phone and Stipes sighed with relief.  “I don’t like things that go boom.”

A police officer brought Dave back to the house.  Dave asked, “Neen, who else has one of Miranda’s paintings?”

She shrugged.  “I have no idea.  From the time I was fifteen or sixteen, she took two- or three-day trips.”

“By car?” asked Dave.

“Sometimes, and sometimes she flew.  Miranda was a good pilot.”

“Did she date the paintings?” asked Greg.

“Signature in lower right, year in lower left, worked into the design.  You’ll have to look hard to find the year.”

Neen played another song and then stood and paced.  “You know, if the painting in Judge Summers’ home office has a bug in it, nobody had to tip off Ruiz that we were in Tulsa.  He could have overheard it.” 

“The device has been removed, Neen,” said Dave.

 An hour later, while a tow truck driver attempted to move the charred remains of the Subaru from the driveway, Chance called.  Greg put him on the speakerphone, so Neen could hear.

“The house belongs to Neen Summers, as does a bank account at Columbia Bank and one at Key Bank,” Chance said. “Miranda Jacobs, aka Gloria Summers, signed them over to Neen three years ago.”

“So Neen won’t have to go through probate on the house?”

“No probate.  She owned the house before Miranda Jacobs died.  She’ll need an accountant to figure out the tax penalties, but assuming the money was obtained legally and she’s allowed to keep it, there should be plenty left after she pays the estate taxes.”

Greg stared at Neen, who listened intently.  “Estate taxes?  How much money are we talking here?”

“Over three million in one account, and Neen’s name is on the account.  Miranda had transferred another three million to an off-shore account a month before her death.”

“Three million.”  Greg grinned at Neen’s astonished face.  “You’ll have to share it with Uncle Sam, honey.” 

“As long as I don’t have to share it with Uncle Julio.”

Chance said, “I haven’t checked everywhere yet, but that should keep her a week or two.”

Neen smiled.  It wouldn’t make up for everything that had happened to her, but she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of money any time soon.  She wondered if she’d live long enough to spend that much money.  Would her grandfather want it back?  Or did it come from Julio? 

Skeeter checked out the car in the garage and found no wires.  Neen saw the relief on Greg’s face, and Stipes grinned as if given a death sentence reprieve.  These macho cops were all just as scared of Julio’s men as she was. 

Before Bo left with Skeeter, Neen said, “I’m so sorry about your car, Bo.”

“It’s just a car, Neen.  Nobody was hurt, and I have insurance.”

“I don’t think we can hide this one from Mom,” said Greg.

Bo groaned.  “You tell her.  It’s your turn.”

Greg screwed up his face.  “Aw, Bo.  She likes you better.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Neen.  It was the least she could do. 

Bo and Greg looked at each other, eyebrows raised.  “It might work,” said Bo, “if we let her sing first.” 

A police officer came by to tell Dave that the police in Auburn gave chase to the men in the black car.  It ran off the road and hit a tree.  The passenger died and the driver was in the hospital, under guard.  Neen breathed an audible sigh of relief.  “How many does that make?  How many of Julio’s men have we taken out of the picture?”

“Two in Billings,” said Greg.  “Four, no six, in Tulsa.”

“Seven in Tulsa,” said Dave.  “I caught one near the cowboy bar, you shot two out on the highway, and there were four at the farm.  Five of them are dead.”

“Another one died today, and another one is in custody,” said Neen.  “That’s eleven, and six are dead.” 

“Ruiz is desperate or he wouldn’t risk losing that many men,” said Greg. 

Neen sighed.  “Is it safe to leave here?  Will we all fit in that little rental car?”  There were five people left at the house – three big FBI agents, Greg, and Neen.

“I get to sit in the back with the pretty girl,” said Dave.  “Greg can drive.”

Greg tossed the keys to Kowalski and put his arm around Neen.  Kowalski said, “Our suitcases were in Bo’s car.”

Dave grinned.  “No problem.  Greg always carries clean underwear.”

The bickering started again, and this time Neen didn’t mind.  She knew they were doing it to relieve the tension.   

After Stipes and Kowalski searched the area to make sure there were no more men with guns hanging around the neighborhood, they piled in the car.  Neen rode in the backseat sandwiched between Stipes and Greg.  Kowalski drove and Dave rode shotgun.  Two hired guards stayed behind at the house, but the only thing left behind to guard, the only thing in the house that Neen valued, was her piano. 

She thought about the money Greg’s brother found.  If Miranda had blood relatives, would they claim it?  She rubbed Greg’s leg.  “I need to sit down with Chance and get my legal affairs straightened out.”

“Yes, you do,” he said gently. 

“What would you do with three million dollars?”

“Invest it,” said Kowalski.

“Spend it,” said Stipes.

“Honey, I’d find a woman like you,” said Dave.  “I’d buy a farm or someplace out in the country and start a family.”

“Sounds nice.”  And it did, but she wasn’t in love with Dave Montgomery. 

“You interested?” said Dave.

Neen felt Greg stiffen.  She leaned into him before answering Dave.  “It’s tempting, but—”

“She has me,” Greg said before his lips covered hers in a passionate, bone-melting kiss that made her wonder if she’d been wrong.  Maybe he did love her after all. 

Dave cleared his throat.  “We’re home.  Are you two kids in the backseat finished with your tonsillectomy?”

“Wise ass,” muttered Greg.  “You’re just jealous.”

“Can’t argue with that.” 

Chapter Sixteen

The local police kept an eye on the bar, which made Neen feel more comfortable about staying there.  She didn’t want anyone shooting a firebomb into the place because she and Greg were there.  It would take Julio time to get more men in place, so they should be all right for a few hours.  Maybe.

Bo closed the bar and Skeeter cooked barbecued chicken for dinner.  Neen helped Bo make a big tossed salad and a pot of rice.  Having something productive to do calmed her a little, but with Stipes and Kowalski prowling the building and grounds Neen was reminded why they were there. 

Neen and Bo talked about Greg’s various disguises while they worked.  Neen told them about Gigi, and Bo laughed so hard he almost choked.

When Dave wandered into the kitchen, Neen recruited him to help play a trick on Greg.  “After dinner,” she said. 

“Too bad we don’t have any instruments here except Skeeter’s mouth harp,” said Bo.

She pulled two wooden spoons out of the drawer and handed them to Bo.  “With the song I have in mind, all I need is a beat.”

Bo did a drum roll on the kitchen counter and flipped the spoons into the air, catching them easily.  “You got it.”

After dinner, Bo invited everyone into the bar for after dinner drinks.  Dave excused himself and went upstairs with one of the red-checkered tablecloths from the kitchen.  Neen distracted Greg, so he wouldn’t notice.

About ten minutes later, after Bo poured the drinks, he said, “Neen, how about a song?”

“Okay, but we’d better push some of these tables out of the way.  I can’t stand still when I sing.”

Skeeter pulled out his mouth harp and Bo had his makeshift drumsticks ready.  Neen began singing an old song, Hey, Big Spender.  “The minute he walked in the door,” she sang, as Bo provided the beat and Skeeter the background music.  Dave rolled his shoulders and strolled into the room and Neen kept right on singing.  “Hey, big spender, spend a little time with me.” 

Dave had the tablecloth tied under his arms like a dress, and his makeup was a mess – the lipstick crooked and mascara smudged under one eye.  Of course, he’d put it on all by himself. 

Stipes took one look and burst out laughing, and so did Kowalski, and then Greg turned to look and roared with laughter.  Dave swung his hips to the music, but he looked ridiculous, worse than Greg had when he played Gigi at the cowboy bar in Billings.

Dave sidled over to Greg and cocked his hip.  “Hey, big boy.  Wanna dance?”

Neen choked on a laugh, but she recovered and kept right on singing.  She vaguely remembered hearing a motorcycle outside as Dave and Greg argued over who got to lead, but everyone was laughing so hard she didn’t pay much attention.  Bo’s friends were outside, guarding the place. 

She felt the breeze before she saw two people walk through the door.  One was a short, stout woman with gray hair, and the other a slender young woman in a police uniform. 

Bo choked out, “Mom,” and Neen stopped singing.  Of all the times for his mother to walk in.  What would the poor woman think?

Greg spun Dave around and planted a loud smack on his lips as the two women stood by the door with their mouths hanging open.  The older woman looked shocked, but Greg acted as if this kind of thing happened all the time.  Maybe it did. 

“Mom, this is my friend, uh... what did you say your name was, tootsie?”

In a falsetto, Dave said, “DeeDee.  My name is DeeDee.”

The young woman in the police uniform doubled over with laughter, and then walked over to Dave.  “Honey, your lipstick is smeared.”

In his own voice, Dave said, “Well, then, let’s fix that, girlfriend.”  He grabbed the cop and kissed her thoroughly.

Greg’s mother turned to Neen.  “Are you the only sane person in this place?”

Neen smiled and held out her hand.  “Neen Summers, and I’m afraid this silliness was my idea.  Things got a little heavy today, and they needed to laugh.” 

With a warm smile, the woman took Neen’s hand and introduced herself.  “Carol Gregory.”

Greg pulled out a chair for his mother and Dave pulled one out for the cop.  Reaching for Neen’s hand, Greg said, “Mom, you’ve met Neen, and the big, ugly woman I was dancing with when you came in is my college roommate, Dave Montgomery.  He came home with me one Christmas, remember?  He’s in the FBI now.”  Greg turned to look at Dave and burst out laughing again.  “He didn’t look quite the same in college.” 

Dave flapped his hand at Greg and puckered his lips.  Neen started to giggle and couldn’t stop.   

With his arm around Neen, Greg said, “Neen, the cop with the lipstick smeared all over her face is my sister, Mia.”

“Dave, it’s nice to see you again,” said Greg’s mother.  “For a minute there, I thought Bo had turned this place into a gay bar.” 

Neen handed Greg a napkin.  “You’re wearing more of DeeDee’s lipstick than he is.”

Wiping her mouth with a napkin she’d snatched from the bar, Mia said, “Mom wanted to bring the Harley to Bo, so he’d have something to drive.  I followed her over.”

“Harley?” whispered Neen.  Greg’s mother drives a Harley?

“My motorcycle mama,” Greg said on a laugh.

Greg introduced Stipes and Kowalski, who excused themselves and went upstairs with Skeeter.  Dave and Neen stayed with Greg and his family in the bar. 

Carol Gregory pinned Greg in an intense look and demanded to know what happened to Bo’s car.  “I know Bo didn’t do anything to get his car blown up.  That means you’re up to something again.”

“Who, me?” Greg almost choked on the words and Neen realized he was stifling a laugh.  From the way his mother spoke and the sparkle in Greg’s eyes, this was nothing new.  He must have been a handful as a kid.  He still was, because in some ways he’d never grown up.

Dave cleared his throat.  “Greg is working with me on a special assignment.”

“He’s got no business working now,” said Carol.  “We almost lost him the last time.  Why, it’s a miracle he’s even walking.”

Neen stared at Greg.  “Just how badly were you injured?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Mia asked.

“He said he’d been stabbed, but I didn’t know—”

Greg rubbed Neen’s back.  “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Yes, it does.”  She should have known something was wrong when she couldn’t find him after the raid.  If she’d known his real name, she could have contacted his family.  But how was she to know?  The men he worked with wouldn’t tell her anything. 

Neen dropped the subject, but it would come up later.  He should have let someone else handle this investigation, yet here he was, risking his life again.  He was either crazy or he loved her.  At that moment, she suspected he was out of his mind.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?”  Carol demanded an answer.   

Greg shook his head.  “Mom, you know we can’t talk about the case.”

“The men who tossed the bomb under Bo’s car were after me,” said Neen.  “It wasn’t Greg’s fault.  He and Dave and the other men are trying to help me.”

“Why are they after you?  What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Greg.  “She did nothing wrong, and we can’t talk about this.”

Neen’s mind kept going back to Greg’s injury.  He came into Julio’s house that evening to get her out of the house and to safety.  Because of her, he’d almost lost his life.  And then he’d felt guilty about leaving her alone.  He had hung out in a cemetery so he could save her from a bunch of killers.  It had to be more than guilt and more than using her for bait.  He must love her to put his life on the line again.  No one would blame him for letting someone else handle this case, yet here he was, right in the middle of the mess again, risking his life for her.

Bo fixed another round of drinks and they sat in the bar for another hour.  Mia had a quirky sense of humor, and she and Dave were good together, even if he did look foolish.  She was exotic looking, like Greg said, with a stunning, delicate beauty.  Her skin was darker than the rest of the family.  Her eyes were almond-shaped and slightly slanted, her lips full and sensual.  She pulled the pins from her hair and it fell to her waist, black and straight and shiny.  No wonder Dave couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Neen asked Greg’s mother, “Why is he called Greg instead of Adam?” 

“When we got him, his first name was Gregory.  Bo called him Greggy.  We couldn’t name him Gregory Gregory, so when we adopted him, we gave him my husband’s first name, Adam.  But we still called him Greggy.”

“I love the name Adam.”  If she and Greg made it through this, if they ever took their relationship to the next level and had children, Neen wanted to call their son Adam Ramon, after his father and grandfather. 

Greg walked to the bar with Bo as their mother watched.  She looked at Greg with love, and Neen understood, because she loved him, too.  “He’s irritating at times, but—”

“He sure is, and he’s head over heels in love with you,” said Carol.  “I’ve never seen him like this.  Do you love him?”

“Does it show?”

Carol nodded, and Neen felt approval in her smile.   

Neen wanted to ask about Greg’s injuries from the stabbing, but her throat had closed up, and she didn’t want to ask in front of Greg.  She nursed her drink for a few minutes and then asked Carol about the foster kids she kept.

“The social workers at the state say I’m too old to have any more, so I just take in strays and throwaways now, mostly young teenagers.  They all call me Mom.  I have custody of one girl, a twelve-year-old.  Katie’s mother is a junkie.  One of her mother’s boyfriends tried to get too friendly during the Christmas holidays, so Katie ran away.  Didn’t even have a coat on.  Another kid brought her to me, and I’ve had her since then.  Child Protective Services wanted to put her in a foster home, but she wouldn’t leave me.  Chance talked with Katie’s mother and she willingly signed over custody.  That woman is in no shape to care for a child.  She can’t even take care of herself.”  Carol sipped her drink.  “Katie hasn’t spoken since she came.  Poor kid.  I left her with my sister tonight.  She’s okay with Aunt Leona, and she likes Bo, but she won’t let anyone else get close.”

“How many kids do you have now?”

“Four boys and two girls.  Every bed in the house is filled.  If I had more room I’d take in a couple more, but there’s no place to put them.”

Neen had a house to put them in.  If they ever ended this nightmare, Carol could move into Miranda’s house with her strays and runaways.  Whether she and Greg stayed together after this was over or not, Neen had no intention of living in that house again.

Carol and Mia said good night and left, Dave went upstairs to wash his makeup off, and Bo locked up and went upstairs, leaving Greg and Neen alone. 

Greg turned off most of the lights, leaving the room in soft shadows.  “Sing for me, honey.  Something slow and sexy.”

“There’s no music.”

“We’ll make our own music.”

When he looked at her like that, she felt like singing.  She sang People Will Say We’re in Love, from Oklahoma, and he sang his part as if he’d been waiting for the last three years to sing it with her.  He was right.  They made their own music.  They moved together without conscious thought, dancing and singing as if they’d practiced every day for a year. 

Later, they walked upstairs, arms around each other, flipping off lights on the way, and stopping every few steps for a kiss. 

He closed the bedroom door and slowly undressed her, kissing each area of exposed skin.  She realized he’d never let her see his back, and as she pulled his shirt off, she looked for the scar.  It was on the right side, above his waist, right beside his spinal cord.  He could have been paralyzed or killed.  And she didn’t know.  She leaned down and kissed him there.

He pulled her naked body into his arms and held her.  “I’m all right, Neen.  I had to fight my way back, because I had to find you.” 

That night, Neen didn’t sleep on the other side of the bed.  They made slow, sweet love, and she stayed right where she belonged – in Greg’s arms.

*****

Hours later, Dave shook Greg out of a sound sleep.  Greg untangled himself from Neen and sat up.  “What?”

“Cramer is here.  He wants to talk to you.  Stipes is keeping him company in the bar.”

“On my way.”

Dave stared at Neen.  “What about her?”

Greg reached over and pulled the covers over her shoulder.  “It takes at least twenty minutes to wake her up.  I’ll be back in bed by then.”  He pulled on jeans and shoved his bare feet into loafers.  Grabbing a T-shirt and his gun, he walked toward the door.  “It won’t take me twenty minutes to kill the bastard.”

Cramer, unshaven and disheveled, had lost at least fifty pounds since Greg had seen him last, several months ago.  He looked gaunt, haunted almost, and his clothes hung on him.  In spite of that, Greg dragged Cramer out of the chair and decked him with a right to the jaw. 

“Get up so I can hit you again, you fucking son-of-a—”

Dave grabbed Greg’s arm.  “Wait.  We need to hear what he has to say before you kill him.”

Cramer slowly sat up.  Stipes offered his hand and pulled him off the floor.  Cramer had always had bags under his eyes, but they’d grown so big, they’d taken over his face.  He sank into a chair, his hands shaking.   

“Clinton is dead,” he said.  “Two men found us out on Herron Island.  I saw them coming, so I took off on the boat.”

“Now you know how it feels,” said Neen.  “I’ve been running for three years.”

Greg turned to look at her, standing in the doorway in her red and navy plaid flannel pants riding low on her hips, a cropped navy tank top hugging her luscious breasts, and her hair mussed from sleep.  She had her gun in her hand, and he realized he’d forgotten to remove the bullets. 

Neen walked into the room and sat on the barstool beside Stipes.  Greg and Dave had Cramer at a table.  “You and Miranda were taking a trip together?”

“Ruiz didn’t trust her, and she knew it.  She had information on the people he controlled, and she thought she could play him like she played the judge in Oklahoma.  But Ruiz didn’t like being manipulated, especially by a woman.  There were only two paintings left to deliver, so we figured she didn’t have long before Ruiz sent someone to kill her.  She had to leave the country, and I didn’t want her going anywhere without me.  She transferred money to her offshore account, and we both got new ID and passports then she bought tickets.  We were ready to go, but Miranda wouldn’t leave without talking to you, Neen.  She was going to tell you the day of your graduation.”

Neen leaned back against the bar.  “She waited too long, and so did you.” 

He stood and reached inside his pants pocket.  Greg and Dave jumped to their feet so quickly, Cramer pulled his hand out and held it up.  “There’s a card in the pocket with the offshore account information.  Miranda would want Neen to have it.”

Greg handed the card to Neen and walked back to the table.

“So Clinton is dead.”  Greg lowered himself into a chair, his eyes on Cramer. 

Cramer nodded.  “The other dirty agent on this coast is Lopez, in L.A.  His sister pulled him in years ago.  He keeps it low key, feeds information through his sister when he hears something.  Ruiz doesn’t ask him to do much.”

“What about Clinton?” asked Greg.

“He just wanted to make some fast money,” said Cramer.  “At least that’s what he said.  I didn’t want to be involved at all, but my ex-wife said something to Lopez on the phone one day and he used it.”

“Blackmail?  What?” said Greg.  “You offed somebody?”

Again, Cramer didn’t answer.  He was dead one way or another.  If he didn’t die tonight, Ruiz would have him killed tomorrow or next week.  If he lived long enough to go to prison, he’d be killed there. 

“Who else is in Ruiz’ pocket?” asked Dave.

Cramer reached for his shirt pocket and Dave shook his head.  “I’ll get it.”  The list Dave pulled out had six names on it.  All the men were DEA agents.  One in Atlanta, two in New York, one in Chicago, Clinton, and Lopez.  Cramer’s name wasn’t on the list.

“Who stabbed Greg?” asked Neen.

“Lopez.”

Greg knew better, but Lopez might have been the one Neen saw.  He twisted to look at her.  “Lopez is a body builder.  Light brown skin, no tattoos, about five-ten, speaks fluent Spanish.” 

She shrugged.  “Maybe.  Probably.”

Turning back to Cramer, Greg asked, “Why is Ruiz after Neen?”

“Miranda showed him Neen’s birth certificate.  Since he had a half brother named Ramon who died in prison way back when, he thought Neen was his niece.  After he had Miranda killed, Ruiz wanted to spend some time with Neen, see what she knew about what Miranda was doing with the paintings.”

“I didn’t know anything,” said Neen.

“He figured that out pretty fast, but one of his men told him you were exploring the tunnels and passageways in the house, and Lopez told him you spent a lot of time with a DEA agent.  Ruiz didn’t know if you were working undercover or not.  Even though you might be family – and to him family was off limits – he couldn’t risk letting you go.  He ordered his men to kill you the night of the raid.”

Greg exchanged a long look with Neen and knew what she was thinking.  Could Julio Ruiz really be her uncle?  It didn’t matter to Greg, but it might to her.

Cramer’s voice brought his attention back to the matter at hand.  “I’d like to do one good thing before I die.  Let me help you bring Ruiz down.  I only ask one thing in return.”

Greg lifted his chin slightly in an unspoken question.

“Kill me yourself if you have to, but don’t send me to prison.”

Cramer wanted a promise, but Greg wouldn’t promise him anything.  Prison would be a living hell for a former DEA agent, and Greg wanted Cramer to suffer like he had and like Neen had.  Let him look over his shoulder, expecting a knife in the back or a gun pointed out a window. 

“Why did Julio keep trying to kill me?” asked Neen.  “Is he that vindictive?”

Cramer looked her in the eye.  “No one crosses Julio Ruiz and lives to tell about it.” 

Neen stared at the man Miranda trusted, Greg’s former partner turned traitor.  “Did you love Miranda?”

The question brought a deep sigh.  “Yes, I loved her.”

“Are you the one who hooked her up with Julio?”

“No, she’d known him for years.  They had an affair when she was just out of high school.  She had his baby, but the baby was stillborn and the doctor said she couldn’t have any more.  She said she went a little crazy, did some things she regretted.”

Neen stopped breathing.  “What things?”

“She never said.”

Neen had blamed the judge for Ramon’s death, but it wasn’t him.  It was Miranda.  The woman she’d always called ‘Mom’ killed Gloria and ordered Ramon’s death. 

“She wanted a baby bad enough to—”  Neen choked on a sob.

“She said at that point in her life, she would have done anything to have a baby to love.”  Cramer spoke softly.  “Whatever else she did, she loved you, Neen.  You were her life.”

Neen’s eyes reflected pain, and Greg knew how she hated to hear this.  Miranda had taken the lives of two people, stolen their baby, and used a dead woman’s name.  And she’d blackmailed Neen’s only living relative.  All so she could have a baby to love.  Some kind of love.

Greg wanted to hold Neen and comfort her, but they weren’t finished with Cramer.  The son-of-a-bitch would suffer before Greg finished with him.  He’d pay for his treachery.

Chapter Seventeen

Neen lay wide-awake in Greg’s arms, unable to sleep.  Stipes had taken Cramer upstairs and cuffed him to the headboard of a bed.  He looked sick and she should feel sorry for him, and she did on some level, but he chose his path.  He didn’t have to work for Julio.  “What are you going to do with Cramer?”

“Send him to prison,” said Greg.  “Lopez didn’t stab me in the back.  Lopez is about five-ten, and a taller man planted that knife in me.  Cramer is six-three.  He probably killed Clinton, too, but it doesn’t matter at this point.  Whether Cramer gets the death penalty or not, his life is over.” 

Her life had been controlled and manipulated by a woman who had gone crazy with grief after losing her baby, a man who valued his career and reputation over his granddaughter’s life, and a man who thought he was her uncle, yet decided her life wasn’t worth anything. 

“What if Julio is my uncle?”

“What if he is?” said Greg, and she realized she’d spoken the thought aloud.  “It has nothing to do with you, Neen.”

“I owe my grandfather an apology, don’t I?”

“He sent Ramon to prison, honey.  And he let Miranda blackmail him into letting her keep you.”

“Maybe he thought it was what Gloria wanted.”  She said the words, but she didn’t believe them.  He’d never once come out to visit her, never sent a birthday card, never been involved in her life at all.  “Some of that money is his, isn’t it?”

“I assume so, but he’s not a wealthy man.  Comfortable, but not rich.  He wouldn’t have had that much money to send her.  That means—”

“She got it from Julio?”

“Forget him and snuggle in.”  Greg pulled her close.  “That’s my girl.  Now close your eyes and dream of me.”

She nuzzled into his neck and smiled.  “Who else?”  The one place in the world she felt safe was right here, in Greg’s arms.  Their relationship might not last forever, but for as long as it did, she’d soak up his affection and savor the memories of this time with him.

*****

Neen met with Greg’s older brother, Chance, and took care of her legal business, including making a will.  She’d never had anything of value to leave anyone before, and now she did.  Chance was a pleasant man, quite handsome, with short dark hair, brown eyes, and a warm smile. 

Over the next few days, FBI agents paid visits to all the people on the lists found in Miranda’s house.  They found paintings in various places, including the private offices of several public officials.  Their involvement, if any, with Julio Ruiz, would be the subject of a thorough FBI investigation. 

The DEA agents on Cramer’s list were taken into custody, all except Abe Clinton, whose body was found floating in Puget Sound.  Cramer was arrested and charged with Clinton’s murder.

At dinner one night, Greg and Dave discussed how to bring the situation with Ruiz to a close.  Neen said, “Why don’t you go back into that house in L.A. and follow the tunnel behind the bar?”

Greg and Dave stared at her and then at each other.  Dave said, “Are you sure she’s not with the CIA?”

Neen walked toward the door and turned back to say, “Dave and Greg, it’s your turn to do the dishes tonight.” 

Bo walked into the bar with Neen.  She motioned toward the kitchen with her head.  “You realize someone will have to go clean up their mess when they’re finished in there.”

“Mom used to make Greg clean up his own messes.”

“He was the ornery one of the family, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he was so damn cute, with his blond curls and innocent look, he nearly always got away with it.  Used to drive Chance up the wall.  Mia thought it was funny, and I just tried to stay out of the crossfire.”

Sounds of arguing came from the kitchen.  Neen picked up the guitar Mia had brought over.  “Maybe I can drown them out.”  Strumming the chords, she began singing a Patsy Cline favorite, I Fall to Pieces, and the noise from the kitchen stopped.  She was into the second verse when two men with wet clothes stood in the doorway.  Bo, who had been tapping on the bar with his wooden spoons, pointed to the kitchen and the two men turned around and disappeared. 

Neen remembered the sink filled with dirty dishes in Greg’s little house and wondered if he knew how to wash dishes. 

*****

The FBI obtained a search warrant for the house in L.A. that belonged to Julio Ruiz.  Greg wanted to leave Neen behind with Bo, but she refused, as he knew she would. 

On the way from the airport to the house, she asked him to stop at a store to buy marking pens.  “I want to draw arrows on the walls of those passageways and write where they lead, so you guys don’t get lost.” 

Dave’s eyebrows shot up.  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re not me,” she said with a smile. 

“Thank God for that,” muttered Greg.

Stipes, Kowalski, and at least a dozen other men met them a block away from the house.  Kowalski had the search warrant in his hand, and every one of the feds carried a big flashlight.  Neen carried the bag of markers and her purse.  It looked like she didn’t have to run any longer, but she still wasn’t going to go anywhere without her purse. 

A guard opened the door.  Dave gave his spiel and showed the search warrant and his badge, and Pedro stepped back from the door.  Having feds in Julio’s house probably scared him half to death, but they weren’t giving him any choice. 

Neen pointed out all the entrances to the tunnels that she knew of, and then she asked the men to wait until she marked the junctions of the passageways and tunnels.  Dave sent Kowalski and Stipes and two other men in the tunnel behind the bar in the rec room.  She was glad he’d decided to stay in the house to supervise the search.  A man who was afraid to be underground didn’t belong in the tunnels. 

Neen started in the bedroom she’d used.  Greg pried the cover off the entrance in the bedroom closet.  He put his fingers in three bullet holes in the closet wall and she knew he pictured her in that room, running for her life.  He held the flashlight while she drew big arrows on the walls and wrote beside the arrows, identifying where they were and which rooms the passageway led to.  

They worked for nearly an hour before she had all the passageways marked on one side of the house.  The other side went faster. 

Kowalski came out of the tunnel behind the bar.  “Guess what we found.”   

Dave made several phone calls and spoke with the judge who’d signed the search warrant.  After explaining the situation, the judge gave permission to extend the search to the house at the other end of the tunnel.  

Excitement charged the air.  There were a lot of people in the other house, and the men thought Ruiz was one of those people.

While a team of agents searched the tunnels and passageways in the first house, Greg and Dave coordinated the raid on the other house.  Kowalski had left Stipes and the two other men in the tunnel.  They were waiting for backup before they attempted to enter the other house.   

In twenty minutes, Greg’s former boss had a dozen men ready to help in the search.  Greg and Dave outlined the plan. 

Kowalski stayed behind with Neen.  “Are you okay?” he asked.

“No.  I’m terrified.”  What if Greg got himself shot or stabbed again?  What if Julio got away again?

“The place is surrounded, Neen.  It’ll be over in a heartbeat.  There’s no way Ruiz can get away this time.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.  What if that house is filled with hiding places and secret passageways like this one?”

“They know what to look for, and there’s no one to tip them off this time.  They’ll get the job done.”

“I hope so,” she said mostly to herself.  The thought of Julio continuing to run his drug operation, of him coming after her and Greg again, of more stabbing and shooting and car ‘accidents,’ terrified her. 

Five minutes later, Greg called Kowalski and asked him to send the men who’d been searching Julio’s house to the other house.  Neen listened to Kowalski’s radio. 

“We’re inside,” said Greg.  “I need men who can identify the entrances to possible passageways.  You and one other man stay with Neen and the guards.  I don’t want her left alone.”

“Did you get Ruiz?”

“He’s here somewhere, I can smell him.”

After Greg disconnected, Neen said, “They need me.”  

“No, Neen, Greg wants you to stay here with me,” said Kowalski.

“So shoot me.  I’m going with the men.  I found the passageways here, and I can find them over there.”  Before Kowalski could stop her, she’d ducked out the door.

Neen had no problem finding the other house with all the men in black bulletproof vests swarming around the place like killer bees.  A man stopped her at the door and she screamed, “Dave, let me in there.” 

He came on the run.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll point out the passageways if you’ll let me in.  I know what to look for, Dave.  You need me.”

He groaned.  “Don’t let Greg see you.”

“How do I get to the basement?”

He took her downstairs, where they had one tunnel open.  She pointed out two other entrances, and Dave pushed her back out of the way.  He pushed a lever and a panel swung open.  The sound of gunfire filled the air and Neen ducked behind the bar in the center of the room.  The gunfire stopped.

Dave called, “Neen, where are you?”

“Behind the bar.  I think I found another one.”

In seconds, three men pushed her out of the way.  The entrance was in the cabinet beside the refrigerator.  From the outside, it looked like a pantry, but the door wouldn’t open, and she knew why.  Either Julio was hiding in the cabinet or the cabinet led to another tunnel. 

“Get upstairs,” said Dave.  “Now.  Find Greg and stay with him.”

A terrified maid ran out of the closet, crying and almost hysterical.  The closet led to another tunnel, and the maid admitted that Senor Ruiz had gone that way.  He could have left the property.  Or he could still be here in the house, hiding.  Neen fled up the steps looking for Greg.

*****

Greg was livid that Kowalski hadn’t kept Neen at the other house, but when she told him what happened in the basement and what she suspected, he walked through the house with her while she identified tunnel entrances.  He’d looked right at them and missed them, and so had the other men. 

After he assigned men to each entrance, he and Neen went outside to the pool house and the garden shed.  Kowalski had already found the one in the pool house, and the garden shed was clear, so they went into the garage.  She looked up at the pull-down ladder.  Greg listened closely and thought he heard something, but it came from the workshop in back, not from the attic.  There were three big storage cabinets and an L-shaped workbench in an area that measured maybe ten by ten.  Stipes came in and Greg put his finger to his lips.  He pointed at the attic storage space and then at the three cabinets.  Stipes disappeared and returned with three more men.  One quietly pulled down the ladder while the other three got into position in the workshop.

The first cabinet had a black cat inside.  The second the door opened, the cat ran out.  The second and third ones held shelves of tools.  There were no doors in the back of the cabinets, and Greg had probably heard the cat trying to get out.  But someone had locked her in that cabinet.

He felt around both sides of each cabinet but couldn’t find a lever.  Neen pointed to the floor under the workbench and Greg saw the trap door.  He sent her to the corner of the garage out of the line of fire, then took two suction grips and anchored one to each side of the trap door.  Using the handle from a broom, he slid it through the handles of the grips.  Stipes grabbed the other end.  They lifted together while another federal agent aimed his gun at the hole.

Two men burst through the ceiling in the garage, spraying the men below with gunfire.  Greg nailed one in the chest and Stipes hit the other one in the head. 

“Drop the tear gas into that hole, Stipes,” yelled Greg.

A voice from below said, “No, I’m coming out.”

A little man climbed cautiously out of the hole, his frightened eyes scanning the garage.  Julio Ruiz.  Greg left him to Stipes and limped to Neen’s side.  She helped him outside. 

Outside the garage, Greg called Dave.  “Two dead in the garage.”

“What about Ruiz?  Did you find him?”

“The man is in custody.”

Greg held the phone away from his ear while Dave yelled.  As soon as Greg could speak again, he said, “Send the paramedics.  I took another bullet.”

“Aw, Greg.”

*****

Neen took one look at the blood pouring from Greg’s leg and handed him the clean underwear from her purse.  He sat on the driveway and pressed the clean white cloth to his leg.  Neen knelt beside him, her stomach roiling from the sight of Greg bleeding again.  She looked up into Dave’s face and saw the worry etched on it. 

“It’s only a flesh wound,” said Greg.

“Not this time, buddy.  There’s too much blood.”  Dave stepped away and let the paramedics work on Greg. 

Greg lay back on the driveway and closed his eyes.  They didn’t have to give him anything for pain this time.  He passed out, losing blood so quickly Neen’s heart pounded with fear.  Would he make it to the hospital in time?  The paramedics scurried around.  One man held onto the wound while the others lifted Greg onto a gurney and put him in the ambulance.  The ambulance left in a hurry, sirens screaming. 

Neen looked over to see Julio smiling, and the rage she felt removed all rational thought.  She wanted him to hurt, to die slowly and painfully.

Her hand closed over the gun in her purse.  No way in hell would this killer go free.  If the feds didn’t lock him up for good, she’d kill him herself.

“Come on, Neen,” said Dave.  “Stipes and Kowalski can handle this mess.”

She pulled out her gun and aimed at Julio.  He swore in a mixture of Spanish and English, and the color drained from his face.  He looked scared to death, and he should be scared, because she wanted to kill him. 

Dave reached for her gun and she pulled it away.  “Stand back, Stipes.  Give me one clear shot.”  She fired at the ground by Julio’s feet and he jumped back. 

“You want me to put a bull’s-eye on his balls?” asked Stipes.

“He doesn’t have any balls.  He’s a spineless little wimp who pays other people to kill for him, because he doesn’t have the guts to do it himself.” 

“I don’t blame you for wanting to hurt him, but if you fire again, I’ll have to arrest you,” Dave said quietly.  

She lowered her gun and Dave took it from her hand. 

“The gun went off by accident,” said Stipes.  He looked around at the other agents watching them.  “Right, guys?”

“I didn’t see a thing,” someone said.

“I did,” said another.  “Her gun went off by accident.”

Murmurs of agreement came from the men. 

“Come on, Neen.  Greg needs us at the hospital,” said Dave.  He called to Stipes, who still had a firm grip on Julio.  “Stipes, you and Kowalski are in charge here.”

Dave and Neen jumped into the police car waiting at the curb and they were driven to the hospital, siren blaring.  On the way, Dave called Bo.  “Greg’s been shot again, and this time he’ll need blood and a lot of it.  I’ll send a plane to the Tacoma Narrows Airport for you.  That’s closer than Sea-Tac.”  After Dave arranged for the plane, Neen asked, “Do he and Bo have the same blood type?”

“Yeah, and me, too.  Greg gave Bo blood when he had surgery on his elbow.”

“Their mother will hate me for getting him into this.”

“Their mother is also the mother of a former Marine and the mother of a police officer, and she is the widow of a police officer.  She knows the risks, Neen.  She’ll chew Greg up one side and down the other, but she’ll be there for him the same way she was when he was stabbed.”

The police officer driving stopped by the emergency room door, and Neen rushed inside with Dave.  He presented his badge at the desk and asked about Greg. 

The nurse said, “He’s in surgery.”

After Dave gave blood and Neen washed Greg’s blood off her hands, they sat in the waiting room together, waiting for news.  Every minute seemed like an hour and every hour felt like an eternity. 

And still they waited.

Dave went outside every few minutes to use his cell phone and came in with updates on the situation at the two houses they’d raided.  Two of Julio’s men died in the garage and one in the basement of the second house, several others were under arrest, including Julio Ruiz, and one of the good guys clung to life in an operating room. 

Neen wiped the tears off her face.  She hadn’t told Greg she loved him.  Now it could be too late.  Part of her wanted to bawl like a baby, part felt numb with fear for Greg’s life, and the other part wanted to go back to that house and blow Julio’s head off.  Would a jury convict her of murder after everything Julio had put her through?

After one phone call to Kowalski, Dave told Neen they’d found enough heroin to supply half the country. 

“Can they charge Julio with murder?”

“Murder, attempted murder, extortion, and a whole list of offenses.  He’ll spend the rest of his life in a prison cell.”

“I should have killed him and saved the taxpayers the money.  He won’t plea bargain it down, will he?”

“Not a chance, Neen.  Now that they know Ruiz is out of business, some of his people may be willing to deal, but nobody is going to negotiate with Ruiz.”

Neen asked the woman at the desk about Greg, and the woman asked, “Are you family?”

Dave said, “His family is on the way, but it’ll take time for them to get here.”  He flashed his ID and asked them to keep him and Neen informed. 

“Yes, sir.”

Greg made it through surgery.  Neen hired private nurses and had him moved to a suite where his family and co-workers could visit in private.  Chance had found more of Miranda’s money, and Neen’s net worth now hovered around ten million, much of which had come from Miranda’s prudent investments over the years.  She could afford to take care of the man she loved. 

Neen stayed by Greg’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up.  He’d lost so much blood that even with the transfusions, he was as pale as the sheet. 

Two days later, he opened his eyes.  “Neen?” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand.  “I’m right here, Greg.”

“How long?”

“Two days.  Do you remember what happened?”

“Shot in the leg.”

“The bullet nicked an artery and you almost bled to death, but you’re okay now.  You’re going to be okay.”

Greg closed his eyes and opened them again.  “Where’s Dave?”

“He’s around here somewhere, with Bo and your mom.  Dave said to tell you that you owe him at least two week’s worth of paperwork.” 

She gave him a sip of water.  “I love you, Greg.”

“I love you, too, Neen,” he said before his eyes drifted closed again.  “I’ll always love you.”

Neen sat by his side, crying with relief and love. 

Epilogue

- Six Weeks Later -

Neen drove Greg and Carol Gregory to Miranda’s house and handed Carol the key.  “Carol, this is your new home.”

Carol gaped at her.  “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not kidding.  It’s my contribution to the work you do for kids.  The rent is one dollar a year.”  She thought about giving her the house, but she knew Carol couldn’t afford the property taxes on the waterfront home. 

Greg pointed to the door.  “Go ahead, Mom.  Check out your new house.” 

The damaged furniture and refrigerator had been carted away, a fresh coat of paint put on the walls, and the carpet replaced.  The outside would be painted in July.  Neen had left the furniture Miranda had bought with the judge’s money, and she and Greg bought new beds and living room furniture for Carol and her kids.  Neen kept only one thing from Miranda’s house – her piano. 

Before she put the key in the lock, Carol gave Neen a long, warm hug, and Neen knew without a doubt that she’d done the right thing.  Carol needed the extra room, and Neen never wanted to live there again. 

Neen and Greg bought the house on the other side of Mrs. Carlsen’s, and she and Greg would be moving in next week.  She’d already had her piano moved over there. 

*****

Greg watched Neen trying to deal with what Miranda had done.  He wanted to do something to help her deal with the sense of loss she felt, so he made some phone calls and set something in motion he hoped wouldn’t be too upsetting for her.  She needed to grieve for Gloria, and she needed to make peace with her grandfather before her feelings ate her alive. 

Two days later, Greg and Neen flew to Tulsa, where a driver took them to Judge Summers’ home, a two-story colonial in an upscale neighborhood.  The judge met them at the door and invited them inside.  He had a tentative smile on his face, as if he wasn’t sure she wanted to be there. 

Neen looked at Greg, who stood beside her holding their suitcase.  “We’re staying here?”

Before Greg could respond, the judge said, “I had the guest room prepared for you, but if you’d rather stay somewhere else—”

“No, it’s all right,” said Neen.  “I just don’t understand why we’re here.”

“We’re having a memorial service for Gloria tomorrow,” said Greg.  “The judge thought you might like to see her room and look through photo albums.”

“You set this up without talking to me?”

“The judge did most of the work.”  Greg gripped her hand.  “You need to know your mother, honey, and you need to say goodbye.” 

Neen spent most of the afternoon talking with her grandfather, a man she should have known when she was growing up.  He handed her a stack of letters and cards addressed to her.  Miranda’s handwriting on the front said Return to Sender.  Neen’s throat closed.  When she could speak again, she said, “I thought you—”

“Forgot I had a granddaughter?  No, I never forgot you.  I went out to visit a few times, but Miranda wouldn’t let me see you.  One time I sat in a rental car across the street and watched you skateboard down the driveway.  That’s as close as I ever got to you.”

“Miranda took me away from you.”

“Yes, she did, but I blame myself.  I should have fought for you in court, like any reasonable man.  I knew she loved you, knew she took good care of you, and I guess I thought you were better off with her.  She’d lost her own baby and Gloria wanted her to have you.” 

Neen had her doubts about that.  Miranda could copy anyone’s handwriting.  She’d probably forged that letter from Gloria.

He cleared his throat.  “Miranda sent me your school pictures, copies of your report cards, and other little things over the years, but it didn’t make up for not knowing you.”

“Why did you deny me when I called your office?”

“I’m sorry about that, Neen.  Jessie thought it was a con.” 

The judge had kept Gloria’s room just as she’d left it, with clothes in the closet and in the dresser drawers, as if Gloria would come back to life and wear them again.  A jewelry box on the dresser held her treasures and a little music box with a ballerina played the Nutcracker.  Neen sat on the frilly bed.  If she’d grown up here, this probably would have been her bedroom. 

Her grandfather sat beside her.  “A month or two before my wife died, she fixed the room up.  Gloria outgrew the little girl frills, but she wouldn’t change it, because her mother did it for her.” 

“What did your wife die of?”

“She had scarlet fever as a child and it left her heart damaged.  We didn’t know how serious it was until she was pregnant with Gloria.  That’s why we decided not to have more children.”

At least it wasn’t genetic.  Neen didn’t want to pass something on to her children.

“I’ve retired from the bench for good.  I should have done it years ago, I suppose.  I’ve given a lot of thought to the cases that came before me over the years.  I know I made some mistakes, but for the most part, I believe I did a good job.” 

“Justice is supposed to be blind, yet you let the color of a defendant’s skin influence your decisions.” 

“I did the best I knew how.”   

“Yes, I suppose you did.”  But it would take time for her to forgive him for sending Ramon to prison.  

*****

The next morning, the judge drove Greg and Neen to the cemetery for the memorial service.  There were several people in attendance, including Jessie Riverton, the judge’s long-time friend and secretary.  A big picture of Gloria sat atop her pink marble stone, and several others sat in front, with the flowers.  Gloria was a vivacious redhead, a beautiful, poised young woman who died much too young.  Seeing her pictures, her room, and the grief the judge still carried inside him made Neen’s mother come alive to her.

The judge introduced Neen and Greg to Jessie and the others, and the minister began the service.  He talked about Gloria’s short life as if he’d known her, and the others stepped forward one by one and spoke of her, of going to high school with her, of her quirks and sense of humor, at her joy in life, her goal of becoming a doctor.  And how much she loved her baby. 

And then Greg began to sing Amazing Grace.  Neen knew how he hated to sing alone in public, yet he sang not for Gloria, but for her, his rich baritone soaring over the cemetery.  When he finished the first verse, she sang with him, their voices blending together as one, celebrating the life of the woman who had given her life.  Neen had never loved him more than she did at that moment.  His pure, unselfish love filled her heart and gave her hope for the future.

*****

Neen and Greg were married two weeks later.  She filled the big solarium on the back of their new home with white wicker rocking chairs and lush plants.  A wicker cradle filled with baby clothes, a gift from her grandfather, sat beside one rocker.  The judge said they’d used the cradle for her mother many years ago.

Someday she’d search for Ramon’s family, but she had other things on her mind that summer.  She and Greg were expecting a baby around Thanksgiving.

Neen stopped carrying her life in her purse.  Her life was in her new home, her loving husband, and in the baby she carried inside her.

She’d never have to run again.